Hogwarts, School of Magical Arts
by vanilfrappe
Summary: Hogwarts was purchased for 1 billion dollars by none other than Hermione Granger. She has plans to bring muggles and wizards together. A certain Blaise Zambini wants in, musically and figuratively...
1. Hogwarts for Auction

Disclaimer: I, vanilfrappe, do not own or confess to owning any of the Harry Potter tale or the

characters. Any and all ideas laid out in this story fan-fiction are a curiosity, and a hats off to

J.K. Rowling, who is a genius!

This is a crazy idea I had during one of our marching band practices at the school. A vision of

what would our band look like with magic in our horns? I'm just writing it down!

Hogwarts, School of Magical Arts

Hermione Granger punched on the gas of her car so she could make the turn through the forbidden forest. Her Hummer roared to life under her hands, giving her that rush whenever she went around corners. The thrill of being reckless, something she didn't often do, made her grin.

One might ask what Hermione was doing driving through the forbidden forest in a Hummer. Ten years ago, she would never have dreamed she'd be here. Ten years ago, she had fought next to Harry and her friends for their lives, and the side of right.

Now, they lived in the right. Harry had defeated Voldermort, bringing many of the death eaters to their side. Some, of coarse, hadn't. Most had been killed by Aurors by now. During the war, the Ministry of Magic had nearly been destroyed. Harry had united the wizading community from falling into ultimate confusion by stepping up and leading, as he was born to do.

It was a new golden era for the wizarding world. The previous one, during Harry's childhood, was nothing compared to the world they lived in now. Over the first three years, slowly, the communities and shops reopened. Homes were rebuilt, and lives returned to normal.

One major, and noticeable change was the way the Ministry now worked. It was clearly shown to be more honest and trustworthy. Harry, having had years of experience fighting dark arts and solving mysteries on little information, had given the ministry offices a clean sweep, so to speak. Jobs were not arranged in caste systems, depending on the richest and pureblood families.

In fact, the muggle-related departments were now classified as the highest job. Harry, with encouragement from Hermione, realized that the resentment of muggles had to be liquefied. The wizarding world, if it wanted to come up peacefully, had to let go of their prejudice. So, Arthur Weasley now had one of the highest positions in the Ministry.

Second, were the Aurors Department. As most the death eaters were now either dead, the Aurors jobs had changed slightly. Instead of assassins, they were now the equivalent of policemen, solving crimes, capturing the riff-raff bad guys and such. For the more talented and experienced Aurors, special top secret jobs were given, to scout our remaining death eaters on the run, and to put a stop to dark cults trying to rise up. Harry had also arranged, by the muggle leaders request, to allow volunteer Aurors in training to help solve muggle crimes. So far, the wizarding world was appearing to be well controlled and protected.

There was also the matter of the evil creatures still out and running, without care. Hermione had especially besought Harry not to just allow them to be destroyed. Harry may not have appreciated trolls much to an extent, or some foul spiders, but he remembered Buck Beak, Hagrid, the ursuls, even dragons. He'd made sure to update the Control of Magical Creatures to the department for Maintaining Magical Creatures. Bill, Ron's brother, had been assigned as the head. He'd put a team together that was now searching for ways to let the creatures now be free and equal in rights.

Programs were now set up to try and teach the giants in the mountains manners, and land was set aside for them to grow and build on. For the ones that wanted, the young giants were enrolled in school, started by Hagrid and his partner Madame Maxime. Goblins were given back Gringotts, after they had been forced to leave by the previous Ministry when they were in a panic. Dragons were being bred not just in Romania, but in several parts in each country in Europe. They were being collared and set free, with wizards or witches that monitored their movements. Muggles still had to be protected.

The Department of Mysteries had been thoroughly checked by Harry as well. After Harry's last adventure there, it was of the highest importance. So far, the workers there were continuing their top secret work, as they knew best. The department of Mysteries was still the hush-hush of the Ministry building. It was rumored, and even Hermione wasn't positive, that Harry had ordered a few of the rooms to be destroyed or locked forever. She personally didn't know how she felt about this; it was a pity for anything to be destroyed. Yet, dangerous information, like the knowledge of horcruxes, sometimes were better off dead for the safety of all.

One of the biggest improvements was the entrance to the Ministry. Once you were out of the telephone box, you entered the lobby. To once there was a fountain proclaiming a lie of equality in the wizarding community.

Now, there resided a memorial statue in honor of Albus Dumbledore. Luna Lovegood, the most celebrated witch artist, had used the shards from the previous fountain to scale a likeness of Dumbledore, sitting in his chair. Everyone entering the lobby now days would stop in front to take a moment and study the wizard who had fought so hard against evil. For annual Ministry workers, the reaction was to sigh, and nod their heads together, not speaking in sadness. Visitors were known to cry as they held the shoulder of the person closest to them. Everyone took their hats off, and silence drowned out all violent thought.

Yet, even in the grief of memory, as people turned away to go about their business, they always remarked to their friends how it seemed as if Dumbledore's eyes had looked at you, and twinkled with an understanding of life.

Perhaps that is why Luna titled her work _THE TWINKLE IN HIS EYE_.

Hermione made a mental note to herself, as she flipped to her music station (they always played Andrea Bacelli at this time of night), to notify Luna if her business went well tonight.

With that thought, the Hummer burst from the trees onto the road that ran along the lake. It's black surface wrinkled with waves caused by the slight breeze. The moons glow rested near the horizon, illuminating the great squid as it played in the deep night. Hermione smiled, resting her head on her left arm as her right arm steered. Such memories, her first being entering the boats, that magically steered them to Hogwarts. That first glimpse, from the lake looking up onto the glowing fortress, would always be the most special.

Her eyes, of their own accord, hesitated, before glancing across the lake once again to the castle on high. Even now it caused her breath to catch. It had been so long, she thought, following the curve of the road. So long since she had visited. The last time she had been here was the day Harry had defeated Voldermort.

The battle had taken place on the grounds. Voldermort, now having lost all his horcruxes to Harry's hand, had gathered all his minions and death eaters for one last stand. Thanks to spies inside his group, Harry, the Order of the Phoenix, and wizards and witches alike, were waiting.

The students, even the Slytherins, many of them, had come out of the castle and stood with Harry. They would not be persuaded other wise. Hogwarts, and the world, was at its climax, and all were standing up together, in inter-house and wizard unity.

In the end, many had died. But Hogwarts had not been taken.

Tom, in the end, had not won his most valued prize of all. What he could never understand was that Hogwarts was never just his, but a home to all magical students.

When it was over, Harry had remarked to Hermione that the battle with Voldermort had nearly killed him. It was only through knowing that Hogwarts, his friends, and Dumbledore's faith were fighting along with him, that had saved him.

Hermione knew, without him even needing to say, that Love had ultimately given him the power against Tom Riddle. Love was a powerful thing.

And as Dumbledore had said, he would never be truly gone from the school, so long as those still there were loyal to him.

They had been loyal, and his words had proved true.

Hermione sighed, chasing away the memories. Hogwarts hadn't been the same after. True, it had been won intact. But no one could feel the need to continue. It was as if no one could bare to change the old ways.

It was Dumbledore who had changed it, and everyone knew. Past Headmasters had come and gone, some better than others. But everyone had been able to look forward to new leadership with zeal. Albus Dumbldore had been different from most headmasters before him. Even the memories in the pictures of old headmasters and mistresses, they looked to him with a different authority. It was as if Hogwarts was made for him to lead, and him only or there was no point. It had been waiting for him. Or for this critical point in age.

Now that that age had come and gone, everyone preferred to leave things as they were. Hogwarts had been closed that year, to many tears and regrets.

Hermione cried now, finding the music, the memories, and the sight of her beloved school, most of it dark, except for the few lights on in the great hall, mingling deeply in her female heart. Buckets, she'd be a sobering mess by the time she got there! She scolded herself, switching off the music. She wiped her sleeve over her eyes to dry them, then turned on her blinker to enter the front grounds of Hogwarts.

A sign staked to the lawn near the front entrance read…

_Public Wizarding Auction_

August 21

9:00 P.M.

Property on Block:

(Separately)

Furniture, Magical Items, Art,

& Castle ( including Grounds).

_Auction Benefited by Gringotts Bank_

Hermione read the sign quickly and efficiently, before taking the keys from her Hummer's ignition. She opened the door and stepped out on her high heeled leather boots. She tied a silk Chardonnay scarf around her neck, shut the door, and began to walk towards the door propped open. Before entering, she clicked the button on her key ring, and smiled as her Hummer made a cute popping sound as it locked.

"That won't do you much good, Ms. Granger," said a slurred voice near her right.

Hermione turned her head to see who the voice belonged to. She raised an eyebrow at the smartly dressed gentlemen-wizard leaning against the castle wall, a cigar in hand. He blew in, and the red flares at the end illuminated his sly smile.

"A simple alorhomora would unlock that muggle contraption in a second. Given our location, I would say that's a worry," he said evenly.

Hermione smiled. "Mr. Malfoy, what wizard do you know of who would have need of a Red Hummer? If you can apparate faster and cheaper by magic, it would seem pointless to steal it."

Malfoy took a deep drag before depositing it in the grass, and walking over to her. His smile was still evidently in place. "Always had the logical answer, didn't you, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the smoldering cigar on the ground, but answered congenially. "Always the formal friends, now, aren't we, Draco? But oh dear, I just answered your question with another question! How will this conversation get started?"

Draco grinned almost maniactly. It was the smile, along with his looks that caused most witches in England to drool over their morning politic columns. Hermione supposed he was rather good looking, but she couldn't get passed the memories of him being a complete bully. They both knew he hadn't entirely given up on his mudblood prejudice. But as he had gone to their side in the end, both had found it best to…tolerate the other.

"Why, Hermione, I swear your antagonizing me personally. On the subject of breaking into locked muggle cars, a good wire would do the trick well of coarse. But who would want to, that thing of yours…_an American vehicle_…"

Hermione noticed rather amusedly he nearly spit that part out…

"…It must guzzle gas!"

"By the pound, I assure," Hermione said, "And really, Draco, I had no idea you were so equipped in the knowledge of the mechanics of these muggle contraptions."

"Yes, well.." he grinned slyly, "We weren't allowed to use magic outside of school for several years now, weren't we? Alorhomora was out of the question, I'm afraid. What's a teenage delinquent supposed to do in his free time?"

Hermione groaned and raised her eyebrow high. "So, we are in agreement about you being a delinquent? I thought the day would never come."

Malfoy silently regarded her, choosing not to acknowledge this statement, wisely.

"What are you doing here, Ms. Granger? Planning to bid on a painting or artifact you missed? Or just here for the show?" His tone was slightly offensive, his tone nearly slipping into a sneer.

Ah, the rich count puts the peasant in her place, Hermnione mused.

Hermione quietly held the peace in her of knowing some characters never changed as they grew up. Not Malfoy, and certainly not herself.

And she had always been full of a few surprises.

"I came for the memories, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps I shall leave with a slightly less heavy one."

Malfoy smiled and offered his gentlemanly arm to her. "Perhaps we both shall."

Hermione smiled, and linked her arm with his. Together, they entered the doors. Malfoy greeted afew other couples mingling in the lobby, and silently they climbed the grand staircase, and entered the Great Hall.

Hermione looked around the room where she had once sat and ate, everyday for three meals, holidays, and sorting hat demonstrations. The room Dumbledore had given his speeches. She looked up at the enchanted ceiling, and remembered how much she had prided that ceiling. It had always been special to her. Even before she had seen it at 11 years old, she had read about it under her covers with a flashlight. The enchanted ceiling had stuck out as a detail about Hogwarts she had treasured even before coming.

Older, more rich higher class wizards and witches mingled in the room. The house tables were set up for people to seat themselves at. Drinks and small trays of cheeses and fruit were around for people to mingle over. Malfoy gently pulled her to the Slytherin table, sending her a wide grin when she shot him a suspicious look.

"Come on, Ms. Granger, house rivalry dissaparated long ago."

Look in the mirror sometime, Malfoy, she thought darkly, but went along.

One other wizard and one witch sat talking together near the front of the table. They quit speaking together as they neared, and the two motioned with Slytherin grins for them to sit. Draco sat by the witch, putting his arm around her and kissing her cheek. Hermione decided it would be more appropriate of her to sit on the opposite side of the three Slytherins.

"Pansy Parkinson, you witch, how have you been, love?" Draco greeted, dropping his arm. She smiled at him in that sly way of hers, flashing her lashes coyly.

"Quite well, Draco, and don't you be 'lovin' me now. Jacque will have to go hexing you if you make it a habit."

The blond man, sitting in front of her on the right, cleared his throat, and offered his hand to Draco. "I believe you've met my wife before?"

Pansy put a hand on his shoulder, grinning, as Draco and her husband sized each other up. "Of coarse, darling, Draco and I were in the Slytherin house together, same year."

Draco flashed his smile meant for charming businessmen. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He took the extended hand and shook it richly.

Jacque shook it twice, as was custom, then lifted a cigar he had been hiding under the table to his mouth. "_De_ Jacque. Baron _de_ Jacque of France."

Baron de Jacque, Hermione said to herself. Inherited his title from his father, along a family line of wizards dating back centuries in France. Their ancestor was a bastard made by King Aubinierre and a witch he'd encountered and fell in love with. Love potion, it was rumored was responsible. He'd given his son a comfortable living. Although a bastard, the boy grew to be a genius general, and so doing rose in title. The family had been doing well ever sense. This Baron, Hermione read, had dealings with muggle rulers, and a rather tidy Swiss bank account. He and his wife, Pansy obviously, lived in a castle in the middle of his very own vineyard. Responsible for every pint of firewhiskey, finest quality, in the wizarding world.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows at the title, and settled more comfortably into the conversation. Hermione smiled tolerantly, realizing she was being easily shut out of the table conversation. Even better.

Malfoy's too, one of the richest and well off wizard families, were not so easily impressed. The cigar was what did it, Hermione was sure. A rich man's security seemed invested in the image of himself with a cigar.

"I see Pansy's aimed as high as ever. A Baroness? Quite an accomplishment. For the Baron as well," Malfoy said, waving his wand at his goblet. It filled with a reddish wine, which he brought to his mouth.

Pansy met her husbands eyes and winked. "Yes, Malfoy. If you remember, I always look for the best of the best, and not a drop of blood less."

Jacque smiled, and linked his hand with Pansy. "Pansy and I are a perfect match. Our union has worked out well for all."

"_Never_ trusted the French," said another mans voice from the other side of the table.

Malfoy lowered his goblet, and everyone seemed to regard the dark looking man sitting with them.

Hermione turned her head and blinked at the person now sitting directly next to her. She could have sworn she was by herself a moment ago. But as she looked, it became apparent that he had, whoever he was, just come in. His dark cloak draped around him, the hood drawn up to leave the face shadowed. He had just come from a cold place, as his body was radiating heat still.

Pansy leaned forward, one eyebrow drawn up. "And, you would be?"

From the shadow of his face, a smile could be seen spreading. "Why, Pansy, I'm wounded you don't remember. Nor you, Draco?"

He reached up with both hands, taking the ends of the hood in his grasp. Hermione noticed the artistic bone structure of the hands. Long and attractively powerful looking. A Pianists hands, if he wanted to use them as such. He let the hood slip away, and sat up to his full height, breathing in.

His face was as artistic and handsome as his hands. Italian bone structure, Hermione realized. Aristocrat Italian gentry breed. Some royalty blood perhaps. The throat was tall and stoic, holding up the power his face presented. Moisture still dampened the dark curls that ran slightly wavy on his head. They dipped over his forehead and slightly down his neck. He'd be in need of a trim soon, but until then, the passionate artist look would do him no harm.

He was, Hermione had to confess, the most attractive man she had seen in a while.

Pansy and Draco blinked, then leaned forward in surprise. "Why, Blaise Zambini! Should have known you'd be in for your dramatic entrance at some point."

The man called Blaise grinned and leaned in on one arm, as if compatibly. "I don't recall having many dramatic entrances in Hogwarts, Draco."

Indeed, Hermione didn't even recall him. The man sitting before her seemed the type, though, you'd never forget.

Pansy scoffed, turning to her husband. "Don't believe that humble face for a minute! The mans an actor."

Draco inclined his head. "Indeed. Blaise was a champion actor. Outside the Slytherin dorms he was the epitome of invisible, quiet geek. He probably could go into a girls shower room, sit in the middle of the room, and no one would notice he was there."

"But," Pansy added, "In the dorms, he was everyone's favorite crowd member. Brilliant, too," she added almost dreamily.

Blaise grinned at Jacque's speculative glance. "I assure you none of the stories are true."

With a Slytherin involved, I just bet they are, Hermione thought. She smiled conspiratorially.

As if her smile had been spoken, Blaise turned to stare at her. Hermione met it easily, at first, and confidently. Her Gryfindor courage shined in her gold flecked eyes.

But, when she met his eyes, she found her stare nearly breaking. His were a deep blue that held a power. The type of power many weak people longed for. They regarded her, noticing and knowing the effect they had, and seeing how far you could fight it. Hermione was slightly annoyed to feel a slight tightening in her stomach, and hardened her glare.

Well, Hermione knew she wasn't weak. Even Voldermort's stare hadn't undid her. She held it, with her pride making a rather strong wall.

Blaise's eyes flashed at her resistance and leaned forward.

silk"Hermione Granger," he began smoothly, "I do believe your at the wrong table."

Hermione broke the game of wars to stab a glance at Malfoy. "My escort encouraged my choice of seating, and I find it to my liking, Mr. Zambini."

She turned back to his speculative stare and smiled congenially. "But your free to move if sitting with a Gryfindor makes you uncomfortable."

He flashed a lightning smile. "On the contrary, matching wits with the previous Head Girl might prove to be fascinating." Blaise motioned with his wand and the plate of cheeses flew to him. He caught it easily and set it in front of him. He selected a swiss cheese piece and popped it into his mouth.

He swallowed, and grinned as if a rather disturbing thought had entered his mind. "Ms. Granger, you mentioned your escort, was Draco? Well, the opposites finally attract! Never thought you two enemies would get it going."

Hermione and Draco both practically pushed as far away from the table and each other as they could. Blaise laughed out loud at the deadly looks they now were shooting at each other. Those looks turned to him.

Draco practically growled, but managed to suppress it in front of the Baron. "Zambini, don't you ever utter such a sick comment in front of me again, or I'll be forced to drag you out into the woods to finish that sentence."

"We're in agreement on that then?" Hermione muttered, undoing her silk scarf with a snap, and wrapping it around her wrist in rapid succession.

Blaise chuckled. "Come on there, gents, that pureblood vs. mudblood feud is ordered a dead affair. Your own _famous_ Harry Potter is having it signed in law."

"_Potter_ can sign all the bloody laws he wants," Draco snapped, "The Malfoy pureblood line will never mix itself with dirty blood. _Potter_ can't stop us from marrying who we will."

Blaise cocked his head to Hemrione, speculatively. "That comment effect you any, _Mudblood_?"

Hermione's grip tightened on the end of her scarf at the name the Slytherins had classified her as for years. It had once riled her ire. Now, it barely scarred the numb surface. She'd accepted long ago she lived in a generation plagued with blood prejudice. She hoped she could help change that for future generations of muggle born wizards and purebloods.

"Have you heard of _Pepsi_ and _Coke_, Mr. Zambini?" she asked archly, completely off topic.

It threw everyone of, as she had meant too. While Draco, Pansy, and Jacque looked at each other confused, Blaise frowned expectantly.

"Aye, I have heard of _and_ tasted the muggle beverage."

Hermione nodded her head, and traced the line in the table as she began her lecture point.

"Among muggles, there is a feud. The Pepsi lovers against the Coke activists. Both drinks are dark, heavy liquids, full of bubbles, caffeine, and acid-y taste."

Hermione settled her unblinking stare on Draco. "Pepsi lovers argue their drink is better, because it is sweeter, and more positive substance to the taste, making it better."

Hermione looked down to her own hand. She lifted it and turned it about, as if studying herself. "They say Coke is a dry, un-tasteful drink to the mouth, with negative substance to the tastebuds.

"But Coke activists will argue that it is what makes it better. Because of less sugar substance, one can drink more quantity at once, and are therefore able to drink more, without losing the kick of the taste. Pepsi generally does loose its flavor after the first few sips."

Hermione lowered her hand to the table, flicking her gaze back to the four magical purebloods waiting for her point. "It is proven scientifically that there are more Coke products sold than Pepsi because Coke has proven more popular."

Hermione grinned mischievously at them. "I'm going to be blunt. I compare _purebloods_ to _Pepsi_."

As she assumed, all four had their ways of reacting to this. Draco scowled, at having been compared to the less popular, and also to a muggle drink. Pansy chose to grind her lacquered nails into the tables wood. Jacque lowered his cigar, glaring.

Blaise continued to frown, although his eyes blazed with her challenge.

"_Mudbloods_, ultimately _Coke_, are better than Pepsi despite their less sugary taste, because their blood lines last longer scientifically because they are a combination of negatives and positives. Your breed are bound to become genetically mutated if you keep up this cousin marrying thing."

Hermione sniffed, waving her hand, "Us _Cokes_ have greater numbers then you _Pepsi_, and a better link to the outside world. In the end, it is all in your tastebud preference. Sugary and small, or substance and quantity. Just feel free to take your pick, as one won't last on the market forever."

Hermione got to her feet, but stood for a moment looking down at Zambini, who was forced to look up to her. He didn't seem to like the disadvantage, and let her know through his stare. Hermione grinned, feeling that all too unavailable recklessness fill her to the soul. The tightening she had felt earlier mixed with it so she felt unhstoppable.

"Like you Pepsi's, I, the Mudblood, have a totally different definition of dirty blood…

…_Pureblood_."

She let the name slide off her tongue like poison, enjoying the scowl settle over Zambini's face.

Hermione lifted her legs and stepped out of the bench to leave. She didn't notice Zambini's gaze slide over their shape as she did.

"Good luck during the auction, Slytherins."

The three indignant Slytherins, and the French Baron, glared at the Gryfindor as she walked triumphantly to the Gryfindor table, occupied by several old friends who were there.

A rather gorgeous hot-head, Blaise had to admit. A definite change from his memory of her.

In the classes they had together, he'd watched her be the teachers pet, the bushy haired, book reading know-it-all, mudblood, and Potter's left hand. It was always speculated they were lovers, but Blaise had never really considered the rumors true. The body chemistry wasn't right. And if it was one thing the Italian side of Blaise knew, it was the _amore_.

The Granger now had definitely grown up in society. Or defiantly.

Tall enough to hold her own amongst a room of men, her face was rich with cream colored skin and a rosy blush. The lips were full, with the lower lip quite capable of a pout if needed. She had the body that turned men's heads, and she wouldn't even notice. All long legs and hips, she dressed it nicely, in the latest fashions.

Her hair was her showcase now, he agreed. It was definitely not the granger mane it was.

She had it tied up in an intricate knot clipped with an ivory comb. But the candles floating above them in ceiling brought out the red and gold and brown highlights that came naturally. It was a head of fire, and if he remembered her eyes correctly from their previous lock of eyes, brought out the red flicks in her gold orbs perfectly. Blaise began to wonder what all that hair would look like down and free.

Curly and lustrous, a voice in his head said. Falling in greedy handfuls down her arched back and shoulders…

Careful, Zambini, he warned his mind. She's not the type _you_ need to start fantasizing over.

"Still the raving, in-sufferable know-it-all", Pansy muttered, folding her arms. Jealousy was quite evident in her eyes, though.

"It would seem the Gryfindor once again got the better of us, Draco." Blaise popped another cheese into his mouth, rolling it around to disguise the smirk on his face.

"Comparing _me_, a _Malfoy_, to a **muggle bubbly** **pop**!" Draco fumed.

Blaise aimed a look back to the Gryfindor table. "Just what is the mudblood doing here, Draco? She doesn't seem the type to go to auction's with rich beaurcrats involved."

Draco scowled, and rubbed a hand through his sleeked back white-blond hair. "I don't know. I asked her when we walked in what she was doing here. She said to 'acquire new memories'."

Blaise made a noise in his throat as he swallowed the cheese. "That sounds cryptic and mischievously like her. She's here for a reason, my friends, believe me."

Pansy snorted, waving a hand. "The mudblood is poor as poor can get compared to everyone in this room! She'll never hold up to the bids made by these rich wizards. She'll not even be able to afford a book once this gets going."

"Perhaps she's here for a book," Blaise offered, "After-all, she was a book worm."

"She has an interest in expensive, cost-heavy muggle cars," Draco said quietly. All three turned to look at him.

"She's not particularly rich, but she's no longer poor, Pansy. I've made it my business to know certain things about the politics in the Ministry. Hermione Granger has done quite well, for herself. She has one of the larger vaults under her name, so a…friend who works in Gringotts told me."

Blaise frowned. "She works in the Ministry, yes? With Harry Potter running it, you'd think he'd get her a good position."

Draco chuckled, and shook his head. "She refused a position in the Ministry. In fact, she's been busy in the muggle world on something. She visits the Ministry to offer her opinion in cases and on issues. She started that SPEW project of hers, who'd have thought! She's quite the political backing for Potter. But she always disappears. She's not seen much in the wizarding world, and only family and friends see her regularly. I haven't been able to discover anything among my associates. And I don't mess into muggle affairs, nor do I want to!"

Blaise regarded the Gryfindor across the room with fresh eyes. Quite the mysterious witch. And up to something.

What are planning tonight, Hermione Granger? And what secret weapons do you hide to accomplish it?

His thoughts were interrupted by a bell that rang out from the platform in the front of the great hall. The room went silent, the murmurs dying.

A small, ugly Goblin, dressed in the Gringott's uniform, climbed the stairs that brought him to the top of the podium. He curled his sharp nails over the edges of the wood, and looked down his nose as the waiting wizards and witches.

"_Good evening_," his scratchy, squally voice rang out, "_The Gringotts Bank Auction on the Property of former Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, will now begin_."

He lifted the hammer of office and banged on the podium in pomp and circumstance.

"_I am Gringott's employee, Ericksmen. I will be your proprietor and auctioneer tonight. Each of you will be given a number. If you wish to bid, raise the number high, and it shall be called on_."

There was a whoosh of air that flickered the candles in the air, and numbered cards with handles appeared in front of each person or couple.

Blaise lifted his number up and grinned at the number on it. 11. A very good year, and appropriate for his last night at Hogwarts.

"_Shall we move on with the proceedings_?" Ericksmen asked the room to no one in particular. He banged on the block once.

Two other goblins came from the side door, bearing in between them a clothed canvas.

"_Lot One for tonight's auction, a painting in the likeness of the four founders. Some water damage to the corners, and a scratched mustache on the Ravenclaw founders face._

_Shall we start the bidding at 10 thousand pounds_?"

Blaise thought about it, then decided he didn't really care about the four founders. So, he got comfortable, and decided to watch the show.

The bidding was always slow at first, people not really ready to empty their pockets.

"_10 thousand to #34…Do I hear 15 thousand?…Witch, number #66…20 thousand? Yes, #34…#66 to 25 thousand…30 thousand, #34?…No?…_

_Bids at 25 thousand pounds, going once, going twice…_

_**Sold**, to the witch on the right, number #**66**. Thank you, Miss_."

The Goblins marked the painting with a sticker with a number, covered it up, and took it away. Ericksmen made a mark in his book ledger, before continuing.

"_Next, Lot 2, a set of four beds from bedroom of Gryfindor dormitories, one shown. Fine cherry wood with red and gold drapes, mattresses should probably be replaced._

_Shall be start the bidding at 60 thousand pounds_?"

Pansy leaned forward and demanded their attention in a whisper. "That was Granger! 66 was Granger!"

"Really?" Blaise asked, surprised. His view had been blocked when the brown haired wizard had moved in front of her.

"25 thousand pounds? And not an eyelash blinked…" Pansy remarked.

Blaise decided, and made it a point to monitor Granger's expenses from this point on. He watched through the proceedings, as Granger remained inactive, for the most part. She bid on some things, most of them connected to the schools past. Mostly, she relaxed, and watched things go. She didn't collect any of the Gryfindor stuff, as Blaise assumed she would. She seemed to be retaining to neutral, history related objects.

"_Lot 55, then. The great hall Gryfindor house dining table. The table on the very left occupied by yourselves for your comfort. Fine, intricate wood, includes the benches. Food spills for several centuries, scratches, and Berthie-Bots chewing gum under the tables. Nevertheless, these tables are important artifacts to the school._

_Shall we start the bid at 90 thousand pounds_?"

Instantly, 50 numbers went up. Ericksmen's eyes bulged as he began writing the numbers in his ledger.

"_90 pounds to #'s 34,56,82,90,21,1,4,2,8,97,32,23,85,45….."_ the rest the numbers became a blur in Blaise's mind until he heard a specific _"…#**66**, and 105_!"

Ericksmen took a breath. "_Do I hear…lets hurry this up a bit…2 million pounds_?"

About forty numbers shot down in a jiff.

Blaise chuckled, as Ericksmen visibly relaxed.

"_2 million pounds, to 34,21,85, 66,23,82,1,97,105, and 4. Do I hear 2.5 million pounds_?"

6 numbers shot down. "_2.5 million, #'s 34,66,97, & 105. Do I hear 3 million_?"

2 shot down. "_3 million, #34 and 66. 3.7 million?…Yes, to 344444444…and 66!…3.8 million? 34, and 66….3.9?…4 million?…4.5? Come now 34, 4.5? …66 at 4.5 million_?"

Blaise held his breath, watching the numbers held high. 34's hand shook with indecision, while Grangers 66 was held high and steady. With a nod, 34 dropped his card.

"_SOLD! To #66. Thank you again, Miss_."

There was a slight applause, as Granger grinned and wiped a hand lovingly over the table she occupied. Everyone loved a good auction show of tooth and neck biting.

"Well, done, miss millionaire, Granger…" Blaise said quietly.

The next two lots, the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were just as vigorous. But, to everyone's surprise, number 66 took them as well. At 6.9 million, and 10 million _pounds_.

"What is she playing at?" Pansy snarled. "She can't have that much money!"

"Granger was never a liar when it wasn't necessary…" Blaise said thoughtfully, "It least, not generally."

"_Lot 58, the Slytherin table. Shall we start at 10 million pounds_?"

"No hell no way I'm letting Granger take the Slytherin Common Table…" Draco growled, raising his 12 high.

"Jacque, don't let her take it!" Pansy begged, grabbing her husbands hand. He nodded to his wife and raised his number.

"_At 10 mil, we have, once again, #66, and 12, 6, and a 13…11 million? #66, 12 and 72…12 mil? Again same…14?…16?…18?…Oh bloody, lets make it 25!…HAH! #**12 and 66**! 27 million? 12 and 66…35 million pounds_!"

"OH, Bloody!" Malfoy cursed, his number shaking. The room watched him, as 66 was obviously steady.

"Malfoy! Do not give in! It's for Slytherin!" Pansy begged. He glared at the calm Granger across the room.

"35 million pounds for a bloody table, Pansy! No…no…" he said quietly, and lowered his number.

There was a quiet murmuring as everyone watched the slytherin cover his face with his hands. Other fellow slytherins moved near to put a hand on his shoulder. Granger lowered her number, a sympathetic look on her face. Blaise tried to hate her for it, but he'd always admired good winners.

For nearly the rest of the auction, number 66 remained inactive. Ericksmen always checked to see if her number was up, as she had so far made the auction interesting.

It came up only for the books. Hermione's eyes had been hard and set when the books were brought out. Blaise could see them blaze with her determination. Not one book that had been in that library went to another bidder. The entire library, some of the best and oldest works, were now the possession of Hermione Granger, #66, a Mudblood. Including the restricted section.

"WE were right about one thing…" Blaise joked, "She definitely came for her books, eh?"

The others just glared, as did many book collectors in the audience. For the rest of the auction, number 66 remained down. Blaise sighed as the auctioneer Ericksmen announced that was the end of the separate possessions part of the auction. The night had been infinately entertaining and amusing thanks to Granger.

Now, Hogwarts would be sold off to the highest bidder, for good. There was a slight regret tightening in his chest. Blaise had left with a few things himself, but he did not come tonight with the intention of buying his childhood home. Hogwarts had always been his home. He would let others decide his past's fate. But he'd needed to come, and see who would take it.

Ericksmen wiped his brow. His voice was hoarser as he spoke.

"_Lot 909, ladies and gentlemen. The castle Hog warts, built by the founders centuries ago. Innumerable rooms, large kitchens, secret passageways, bathrooms and fireplaces. Castle is on sound foundation. Spells keep dissaparation and apparition off the premises. Muggle cloaking spells protect the school. Close proximity to the village Hogsmeade. Includes several hundred acres, all grounds, fields, Quiddich fields, huts, greenhouses, and parts of forbidden forest. Plumbing system in good condition. Some roof damage_."

Ericksmen took a breath.

"_Shall we start the bidding at 300 million_?"

Rather high, Blaise mused. But not high enough, as several numbers at each table went up. Blaise looked to Granger, and stiffened.

**#66 was held high, and steady**.

Blaise did not remove his eyes as the bidding began. Why? Why, Granger? He wondered, watching her resigned and stubborn hand hold up her number as the million went up, and up...

…Then, it was down to two.

"_450 million pounds, #'s 66 and 125?…125 out? Sure sir? Hogwarts is property unlike any other in the world! Full of history and mystery and magic! You going to give it up to 66?…Yes?_

_Ladies and Gentlemen! Last Lot, number 909, the Hogwarts castle and grounds is going at 450 million in the history of the wizarding world, to the young witch, number #66!_

_Going once, Going twice…No takers? Last chance!_

**_SOLD! To Number 66!"_**

Everyone in the room, minus some sore losers, got to their feet, turned to Ms. Granger, and erupted in applause!

Ericksmen banged on his block to get attention. "_Gringotts Bank thanks all the bidders for showing up tonight and taking part in this exciting endeavor. If you would all now please leave the premises. Those who purchased, would you stay behind to settle your bills and collect your purchases_?"

Goblins imediently began to go down the rows, rolls of bills marked down in their books.

"Stupid, bloody Mudblood!" Draco muttered over and over, signing his bill the rather annoyed looking Goblin handed him. He signed it with his wand, and about 2 million pounds worth of galleons and wizard bills and coins appeared in the air and showered into the open bag the Goblin held open.

The Goblin shut the bag when the stream ended, bowed, and moved on to Blaise.

Blaise smiled, and signed his own bill. "Granger wins the World Cup tonight, Draco, I'm afraid."

His money appeared in the air and streamed into the bag. The goblin moved on, hurrying to settle business. Blaise grinned charmingly at Pansy, who was huffing against her husbands shoulder.

"If you think about it, Baroness, your, at this moment, a guest in Hermione Grangers home."

"Shut it, Zambini," she snapped. Her husband, Jacque, looked slightly alarmed, as her magic wand vibrated and sparked. Her eyes looked behind Blaise, and held.

"Not yet, we aren't," she said quietly.

Everyone turned to look, as the Goblin approached Hermione Granger. Hermione smiled seriously, nodded as the Goblin extended her bill to her. Some 706,425,000 million pounds.

"That's 1 billion, 412 million, 850 thousand dollars in American money," he heard a witch inform her partner.

"She lies! She can't have a billion!" Pansy practically hissed.

"We'll see," Blaise said quietly.

Hermione bent with her wand, and wrote her signature. Everyone held their breath, dead silent, as the Goblin opened his bag.

There was a moments quiet, then, a deep rumbling vibrated under their feet. The candles on the wall shook as everyone's breath caught. Hermione sat serenely, eyes sparkling with mischief.

A great black hole opened up in the ceiling above their heads. A great gold stream erupted in a cascading waterfall and fell into the bag. The Goblin was nearly knocked off his feet, but he braced himself, holding the bag as far away form him as he could.

The stream fell on and on, a river of gold. Hermione just watched it disappear in the bag, unblinking at 1 billion and some was lost from her. How had she earned that sum? It had to have been well won, as people didn't just come by a billion dollars on the street. Did she feel the investment in Hogwarts was worth it? Just what was she planning to do with it?

Blaise decided to make it his business to find out. Or would it be something more than that?

At last, the stream slowed to a trickle, before winking out of existence. Everyone let out a breath, but the Goblin continued to hold the bag open. Hermione regarded him silently a moment, then sighed, lifting her wand. She pointed it at the dark hole and gave it a twist. The dark hole made a sputtering sound, and a single galleon fell, spinning in the air, and into the bag.

The Goblin closed the bag with a sniff, and bowed.

"_Pleasure doing business with you, Witch #66." He rasped, then went to his full 2 ft of height, and walked through the doors._

Wizards and Witches got to their feet, filing for the exit. Many of them surrounded Hermione on the way out, congratulating and inquiring of her intentions and fortune.

"Can we hold up, Jacque?" Pansy asked stiffly. "I need to inquire on Ms. Granger myself."

Draco voiced his agreement. "I want some questions answered, and she's going to answer them!" He ground this out with his teeth.

Blaise held his hands behind his back, thinking. "Perhaps some blood to spill as well, Draco?"

They moved out into the hall, watching as it slowly emptied of everyone but them. And Granger, who stood serenely near the top of the stairs, gazing at nothing in particular, a smile stretched in place. She looked strangely at peace, as if her battle had hardly begun, yet was already winning.

Hermione breathed in the dark air deeply, remembering the smells of the holidays and the cooking coming from the kitchens. There would be those smells again, and she was bursting with energy to make it.

She'd been frightened, mortally, of losing in the auction tonight. She hadn't realized it until it was actually over, but her heart had been on panic mode. As if, these were the final OWL's again, and her future resided on that test. Well, her future had, but she had won it.

And now where to begin? Her ideas for this place were bursting out of her head, and yet she felt content to just stand in this one place forever and dream. Well, she would start tomorrow. Now, she needed to go home, and celebrate with a bottle of…she laughed out loud in humor…Pepsi. Her favorite Pop. But no one need know, after her little lecture on pureblood stupidity.

Hermione turned to walk down the stairs…her stairs…but realized her way was blocked by 4 rather tiffed looking Slytherins. And here were 4 Pepsi's now, she mused. She stopped on the balls of her feet, blowing out a breath.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?" she asked, folding her arms.

Draco had reverted to his bully look, sneering and rolling the spit around in his mouth while making fists.

"You've got some explaining to do, Mudblood."

Hermione stared at him a moment, before sighing. "Honestly Draco, must we get back into this lecture? It will only end on a loopy-loop, sending us right back where this argument started. All right, I'll be honest…"

Hermione folded her arms, leaning on one foot, as she prepared to stand there a while.

"I've been on a little endeavor, a profitable endeavor, in the muggle world. I invested that endeavor in stocks in muggle businesses who's companies were shown by a seer friend of mine to shoot up in the future and now. My endeavor continues, recently I used my lucky numbers to win a rather large lottery account, and my family was killed, as you know Draco, in the war, leaving me a dentistry, equipment, and a separate business, as well as property investments from houses and farms. Real estate can be fascinating with magic involved."

Hermione yawned magnificently at the confused faces of her old school associates as the night hours waned on her.

"You of all should know, Malfoy, that I also have friends in high places in the Ministry, so I therefore have a hold on all leadership personnel in the world. That is my business, and I don't feel you need to know.

Plus, I couldn't resist after your little comment earlier, upon my arrival. What was it? Something along the lines of, what are you doing here, poor mudblood? Come to buy a book?"

Blaise winced, thinking of his comment earlier.

Hermione shrugged, her eyes blazing in triumph. "You still thought yourself better then me, didn't you? But, Malfoy, I'm afraid I didn't buy Hogwarts to give you one last kick in the butt. Trust me, with the plans I have for this place, the Ministry and yourself are going to be kicking my butt for 2 years. But, we'll get into that this week, at the hearing, won't we?"

"What hearing?" Draco demanded, his eyebrows creasing. Hermione ignored him.

"Why, Granger?" Pansy hissed. "Why did you do it?"

Hermione studied them all, meeting each in the eye, before stopping on Zambini's. She held them, reveling in the power she saw there. And she'd missed that look all through Hogwarts? It was too bad he was a sore Slytherin.

"Any of you, when you came in, did you feel like there was something missing? In the atmosphere, it lacked the essence that made it home for all of us over the years.

You know what it was?"

Draco and Pansy glanced at each other, unsure. Blaise continued to hold her gaze, waiting. He'd felt something, too, was missing upon his arrival. It was the feeling that emptiness was where life had once been, that the auction was only breaking it down, and spreading it away so it was less notable.

"It was Albus Dumbledore's presence", Hermione said, in an awful whisper. "When he died, the school died with him."

Hermione laid a hand on the worn pillar, done that way by age and constant use. Her eyes almost filled with tears, but she held them, as she felt so elated.

"Do you feel it now? I can." She lifted her gaze, and absolute joy was on her face, "He's back already, because one who was loyal to him has returned. I aim to bring this place awake again.

And no one, no Slytherin, pureblood maniac, or Ministry official, now is going to stop me in that path!"

With a nod, Hermione pushed through them, walking swiftly down the old steps and out the door. No one moved after her, as all recognized the unspoken agreement that Granger had once again gotten the final word on them. She did deliver the best speeches.

There was a clicking sound, and the sound of her muggle car baring into action, then driving away.

Draco made a huffing sound in his throat, pulling at his tie and cloak. "What was she going all bloody bonkers about?" He muttered.

Pansy shook her head, sadly. "I don't know. I don't think I understand anything anymore when it comes to this place. Things have changed, they have definitely changed a lot."

Blaise stood still, intently absorbed in the pillar, and the words Hermione Granger had said. She'd said them with passion and fire, as if the school wasn't over yet. Hogwarts wasn't over yet. Strangely, the thought lifted that tightness in his stomach, and he felt at peace in some odd way.

Slowly, Blaise reached out and ran a finger down the wood surface. Was that warmth he felt vibrating under his skin? Was it home? Thinking out loud, Blaise answered with what he was sure was prophetic truth.

"I doubt things have changed nearly as much as they will, my dear Pansy, Draco."

He let a chuckle escape his mouth, as his hand slipped to his side. Blaise turned and marched swiftly down the staircase. The other three regarded him like he was indeed going bonkers.

"No, Ms. Grangers barely begun to change things. _It is only **the beginning**_."

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I am sorry if my math skills on adding up the pounds and dollars was incorrect. On some issues of my writing, I like to research to get my facts right, and sometimes I'm just impatient and ignorant. If my total amound of 1 billion and some was incorrect, I apologize, but I don't really care. I hurriedly added my writing up on a napkin and left it at that. I only wish I had a billion dollars!

I'll write the next chapter as soon as possible.


	2. Happy Birthday Harry!

Author: **You know what? Cookie Dough is a powerful thing. Only hours ago I put on an Authors Note begging for mercy because I couldn't write anymore. **

**I eat some cookie dough. 6 pages later I'm singing happy birthday. I tell you, if you want inspiration, Eat Cookie Dough! It gives you spurts!**

Happy Birthday, Harry!

Hermione Granger landed at her destination quite smoothly. Her apparition successful, she strengthened, ran her gloved hands into her side pockets and looked around her.

England's countryside always took her troubles away. There was something elemental, like it would remain forever the way you had seen it last. Green, growing, some patches of trees to shade the various livestock not kept in any specific field or fence. It still looked the same, and that was comforting. Hermione breathed in deeply, and began to walk.

Another thing about the countryside...

You could walk where you wanted unhindered.

Hermione tried not to be peeved at the Wearing Government. After all, she respected its leader. But it was the council themselves who had her Gryffindor back up. They had their regulations, their restrictions, their LAWS!

Why had she voted for them, anyway? She wondered now. Politics were politics, and always would be liars and sneaks.

Of course, Hermione pointedly overlooked the fact she was a politic herself.

They were going to make her life difficult; she'd known that before she'd started this whole Hogwarts project of hers. Hermione had never really let it sink in, though, that she would be fought tooth and nail. Her eyes darkened under her wool cap, and her fingers dug into her hands so hard, without her gloves, she might have drawn blood.

_Malfoy_. Him, that's who was responsible for this trouble. Would he always have to keep his prejudice on the top of his head like a beacon saying, "OH! I'm a pureblood! I hate you! Curse me!"

Oh, she didn't just want to curse him. Hermione went muggle, and imagined blowing Malfoy's head off with a dainty ladies hand pistol. A beautiful thought, and poetic, minus the noun Malfoy. Hermione sighed, and shook her head, forcing herself to breathe. She'd bring the council problem up with Harry. Maybe he could help her. Then again, Hermione didn't want him to get to involved one way or the other. Part of the regret of being Minister of Magic, you had to put some important things over your friends and family in order to keep everyone happy. Hermione understood this, and respected Harry for balancing his responsibilities well. His comments privately would be appreciated in confidence, whether he agreed publicly or not.

Hermione smiled at the herd of sheep she approached. They grazed in her path, up the hill, and when she got closer; she couldn't help but let the laugh overtake her.

Their coats of wool were all different colors! Pastels of red and blue, pink, magenta, bubblegum, orange, and daisy yellow. They lifted their heads as she approached. They opened their mouths and greeted her, each with a different animal sound. Hermione, being a mix of muggle sensibilities and magical optimism for the weird, she didn't quite know how to take this. How did one's mind contemplate a barking-yellow lamb?

She patted them on her way up the hill, appreciating the sight. No doubt they were a project of Mrs.Weasley, she thought happily. Mrs. Weasley had gotten quite attached to the enterprise of raising…exotic animals since Ginny, the youngest had grown up with the rest of the children. Hermione had always felt that Mrs. Weasley was the maternal type. She imagined she must get the downs thinking of them all grown up, as well as elation. She'd handled the transition well: First, it was cats.

Who conveniently made more cats. And a few more after that. That Tom was quite the sexual male.

At this point, Mr. Weasley also _conveniently_ discovered he was allergic. Hermione suspected a potion had been taken to get this muggle problem, as she'd never gotten the vibe he liked the felines overly. She knew he would never openly put down one of his wife's hobbies, as she relented him his muggle fanatics. So, Hermione could only admire his sneaky-ness, even if she was a cat lover.

Then, it was dogs, one Ron had brought home as a gift. Hermione always thought it silly how it had looked just like him, with fire-engine red hair. Mrs. Weasley had hated how **_It_** shed on the couch. Mr. Weasley fell in love with _her_. So, Berneice was a new member of the Weasley family as of last June.

With an inside dog, it narrowed her maternal instincts to outside animals. Here is where Mrs. Weasley found her calling. First it was chickens that laid real golden eggs (only with the right galleon feed). She'd sold several to Gringotts Bank, where they were being used to mint and recycle old coins.

Mrs. Weasley had even tried her hand at dairy. As in, chocolate milk producing cows. Fred and George had requested one to display in their shop, as well several goats that each shot out a different flavor of fizzy butterbeer. She'd happily obliged them. Hermione had heard it was quite a hit among kids, who got to milk their own butterbeer right in the shop. Right after parents were assured of the sanitation.

Hermione smiled as she crested the hill, and looked down on the Burrow below.

It was still there as well. Always had, and seemed like it always would be, despite its thrown-together-on-rubber bands-look. The old sections were still there, but new additions had been added since the fall of Voldermort. Hermione especially liked the large garage flanking the house, with 6 magically opening doors for flying Ferraris, race cars, and two-seater American vehicles. Maybe she got her own car fenalia from Mr. Weasley.

The Burrow had always been a second home to her, especially after her own parents had been killed. To know they died for the wizarding world only for her filled her with a pain and gratefulness. Would she have accepted her Hogwarts admission letter at the tender age of 11 had she known they would parish for that choice? Probably not. But she didn't regret her decision, not even now. That choice had given her the Weasleys, and Harry. To know they were all waiting for her at the bottom of the hill, no matter how she rolled down it in life, was comforting. Hermione rolled her shoulders and started down at a fixed, nonchalant pace.

She hadn't forgotten her parents. She may not have become the prodigy daughter who followed in her parents footsteps in dentistry, but she'd kept her family legacy. That little town dentist office had been in the town and family history for 50 years. Hermione didn't let it die with her parents. She'd kept it open, and expanded its business. There were now several Granger Dentistry Inc. all over Britain, with new surgeries for that whiter, healthier smile.

In other words…cough, cough…some magic was used. As a result, Granger Inc. was known for giving you pearly whites in just 15 minutes. Hermione couldn't tell you how many important men, women, actors, and models she'd shaken hands with after their beer stained teeth had come out, ta-da, in time for their television interview. She'd found some well accomplished and well un-president wizards and witch dentists for the job. The business had done well, and Hermione only hoped her parents would appreciate the act she felt was her duty and joy to do.

In a way, it was amusing the legacy her parents had left her, a dentistry, to which they, and herself for a while, had chosen for her, was now merely a hobby. Hermione never thought it chance that nothing in the wizarding world seemed the right job opening for her. Many had thought, perhaps Auror, like her friends, or a doctor at Saint Mungo's Hospital.

No one, apparently, thought billionaire of England and America. Hermione was surprised she had even done so! But frankly, owning and maintaining several business's and powerhouse corporate companies were quite her cup of tea, in British terms. Always bossy, she hated to admit it, but you started believing people after the 50th time they say so. Yes, bossy, clearheaded, quick thinking, and with a consciousness that bended quickly when the occasion called for.

No wonder she wasn't a full range politician. She had too many morals. That, and she was just too busy.

What with her business life, full of meetings and transaction deals, to her dentistry, and the Wizarding Court Council, SPEW, and several books in candle-lighted bubble baths, it was a miracle Hermione had found the one thing that fully filled her "empty" life.

Music.

Hermione smiled to herself, continuing down the hill. Hogwarts would not be the same when she was finished with it. The wizard and muggle world would not be the same. Music would change everything.

Hermione vaulted over the small rock wall erected to keep the sheep out of the side garden. She landed on all feet, and grinned at the gnomes that scampered under their vegetable leaves. Mr. Weasley was being friendly to them again. No doubt Mrs. Weasley was exasperated.

On that note, Hermione cocked her head as a heated argument drifted over the tall hedge to her ears.

"Mr. _Weasley_! You don't light that end! Do you want to blow us and the whole Burrow away, like on that muggle movie?!"

"Dear, I survived through the dark ages with He-Who-Must-Be-Named, and did not blow up! I think I can light this piece of muggle machinery without doing so, thank you!"

"Oh, Arthur, you can be the worst sometimes! I don't know why I encourage y….PUT THAT DOWN!"

There was a yelp from Mr. Weasley, then was followed by a burning muggle match that flew over the fence and landed in the dirt at Hermione's feet. She raised her eyebrows at its flickering flame, and ground it under her foot before any of the plants caught fire.

Or the gnomes got ideas.

With a deep breath, she gripped the latch on the gate and pushed it open. She smiled at the sight that welcomed her arrival home.

Mrs. Weasley stood in the center of the recently built patio, blocking a Mr. Weasley from the muggle contraption that most striked his fancy this time.

A grill. One of those macho men commercials ones for hot dogs, with the silver siding, shiny finish, and 3 layered grill racks. A pro's weapon. With about 50 buttons, and 100 different ways to cook your burgers and steaks.

Mr. Weasley had certainly graduated from rubber ducks and telephones.

Mr. Weasley made a grab for the match box in Mrs. Weasley's hand. She just held it behind her back, glaring at him.

"You and your fancies, Arnold, are going to get us all blown up like that poor little boy on that muggle movie, Fiwall…ee…Decision…" Mrs. Weasley trailed off, eyes scrunched in thought as he continued to grab at the match box.

"Final Destination 2?" Hermione provided, eye brow raised.

Both stopped their groping and bickering to turn and stare at her as if she'd appeared out of thin air. And in the wizard community, that was just possible.

Mrs. Weasley grinned, eyes softening in warm welcome. "Hermione, dear. So wonderful to see you. Now," she demanded of her, pointing a finger at the muggle grill, "Do you want to get blown up like that little boy did, Hermione?"

Hermione coughed in her hand, grinning back. "No, I can't say I would."

"HA! There you see!" Mrs. Weasley said triumphantly.

Mr. Weasley turned a frown in her direction. "Your supposed to be on my side. You're my only ally in this wizard world, Ms. Granger."

Hermione chuckled and stepped forward. She threw her arms around him, tight. Mr. Weasley's frown dissaparted from his face to be replaced with a wrinkled smile outlined with a chaste beard. Hermione could see the flecks of gray beginning to take over the red rusty hue. Time was disappearing, she realized.

He hugged her with one arm, as his other held a ready spatula. "I'll always be your ally in the front, Mr. Weasley," she assured him quietly.

She slid out his arms and turned to Mrs. Weasley. Her own hair was showing those signs of wisdom. Hermione never doubted she had buckets of it. And Hermione prized knowledge, and the people who had them. Mrs. Weasley tilted her head to display the wide grin on her face, and opened her arms wide for Hermione.

Hermione slid into them, reveling in the spicy scent that was cooking, wool, and rose soap on her skin. Her own mother had smelled like lavender. Both women reminded her of love. Hermione pulled back when she heard Mrs. Weasley sniffling some.

Her eyes were slightly wet, but she was blinking them back mercilessly. "Are you alright?" Hermione asked, slightly concerned. Mrs. Weasley shook her head, smiling. "I'm perfectly fine! Just haven't, haven't seen you around as much, being such a busy girl, dear."

Hermione shrugged, rolling her eyes with the roll of the shoulders. "Magic helps the busy-ness, I'm afraid. Yeah, I have."

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and flipped his spatula expertly. He'd been practicing.

"Been doing any risky business deals since we last met, Hermione?" he hinted, eyebrows raised.

She grinned, eyes dancing mischeiviously. "Not as risky as a wizard lighting a grill, I'm afraid."

Mrs. Weasley groaned and gripped the match box tighter. "Oh, here we go again…"

"Don't be silly, Mrs. Weasley, it's not that dangerous."

"Dangerous?! My Arthur is trying to start a fire, without magic!"

Hermione blew a loose strand of hair out of her face, and stretched out her hand. "Would you prefer if I do it? I have experience, after all."

Mrs. Weasley looked dubiously at Hermione. "Dear, wouldn't it just be easier and quicker if I cook the meat with magic…?"

Hermione shook her head, smiling in amusement. Mrs. Weasley deflated on a muttered oath and set the match box gingerly in her open pal. Hermione nodded her thanks, and opened the box to draw a match. She dragged the match across the rough side of the box quick, a flame springing to life. Mrs. Weasley gasped and jumped away, taking Mr. Weasley with her.

Hermione grinned at Mrs. Weasley face, which was peering over Mr. Weasley's shoulder. "Now, that done…" she began, "…Just hold the flame to the coal bed here." Hermione bent, opening the grill's center door. Mr. Weasley edged forward, eagerness awash over his expression. Hermione held the match to the coals, and watched the flame leap from her small match to the black.

Mrs. Weasley let out a moan of unease.

In moment, a nice fire was billowing happily in its bed of coal. Hermione voiced her pleasure with a grunt of satisfaction, and straightened, shutting the door. She turned to the Weasleys, grinning.

"That's all. Just slap your meat on the grill, let the heat do the work. Flip the meat whenever it needs it, until it's cooked. The coal might get burned out quickly, so just open the door and shovel more in if you need it."

Mr. Weasley fingered the edge of the grill, awe transparent in his expression. "IT's amazing! What fun muggles have! That took longer then magic, but it's an art! Dear, did you see that? Amazing! And we didn't blow up did we? I tell you, it…" His speech was interrupted by the slamming of the back door.

Mr. Weasley winced, and shot a wounded look at Hermione. "I guess the excitement was too much to handle."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. Where is everybody?"

Mr. Weasley took out his wand and waved it in the air. Several different cuts of meat appeared in thin air and situated themselves on the grill, where they began to simmer and pop. "Oh, around. Harry and Ron are in the house last I saw, playing chess. Harry's holding out, barely, Bill and Charlie are betting on who's winning, Fred and George aren't here yet, and Ginny's somewhere with the twins."

Hermione chuckled, and walked towards the recently slammed door. "I'll run into somebody, then. And, Mr. Weasley? If you want forgiveness, I wouldn't burn those."

The smell of smoke obvious, Mr. Weasley cursed and rushed to flip the meat. Hermione bit her tongue, and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.

She slipped through the kitchen, breathing in the deep scent of spices and apple. Mixed, that was, with the aroma of birthday cake. Hermione studied the display on the table. The half finished cake stood in the middle, surrounded by streamers, balloons that magically changed their slogan from,

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!" to

"GINNY, HE'S GETTING OLD! RUN!"

There were also party favors waiting to be used, and several waiting candles. Icing instruments floated around the cake, squirting here and there, working their way to the top. When they finished and settled on the counter, the candles floated to their places, imbedding deep in the cake. Chocolate, it appeared. The flames lit to life, like a happy sigh.

"And that's the way it should be done!" Mrs. Weasley grumbled, moving into the kitchen, with a mixing bowl. Hermione shrugged, not wishing to argue, and moved into the living room.

The scene she found there was very quiet, and the occupants watched the chess match like their life depended on it. Bill looked up at her from his seat on the floor as she took hers on the couch. Hermione opened her mouth to ask what they were being quiet over, but he shushed her and went back to watching.

From his side of the chess board, Harry glanced up, and grinned when he saw her. Ron, who was gazing at the board with intensity, growled slightly in his throat. Harry's head snapped back to the board.

Charlie sipped his fire whiskey from where he stood by the great big fire place, nonchalant. Hermione studied the board herself, noting the pieces. She'd never been good at it. But, she understood the rules of the game, the basic strategies. And, she could see Harry was in deep water

Ron reached out, tapped his finger against his queen piece tauntingly. Harry tensed in his seat, waiting. It looked like Ron would put his king in a bad position if he did move that. Ron made a sound in his throat, and instead moved his wrook to the right of the board. He laced his hands under his chin, waiting. Harry relaxed, and with a grin, took his wrook with his horse, and added it to his cache of stolen pieces.

Hermione began to smile, but then it froze on her face as she saw the familiar smug look enter Ron's eyes. Ron unfolded his hands, took his queen, and moved along the path he'd chosen.

"Check, and…" he said amusedly, dragging the edge of his Queen across the space Harry's horse _once_ guarded, "Checkmate!"

With a violent move, he stomped his plastic Queen on top of Harry's plastic King. Bill and Charlie hooted and raised their glasses to Ron. Harry sat dejectedly in his seat, trying not to smile, but failing.

"HA!" Ron bellowed, "See? I win! Even with a muggle's chess set, I win!"

"Why were you playing with a muggle's chess set?" Hermione asked, watching as Bill and Charlie exchanged galleons.

Ron turned to her, grinning. "Because, my dear Hermione, _somebody_ decided the only reason I must be winning all the time is I jinxed the board up so I would win!"

Hermione shot a glare at Harry. "You thought Ron cheated?"

"No" he said quickly, "I just don't like the way his set argues at every choice you make. I decided a game that I actually control would be a nice change!" Harry began gathering the plastic pieces, dumping them into the cardboard box. Ron snickered and wiggled his brows suggestively. "He lies. He thinks I cheat."

Hermione rested her head on her arm, eyes smiling. "Ron, being the top chess player in Britain's Yearly Chess Tournament can hardly cheat and get away with it. How did you like the muggle version?"

Ron sighed, and fingered the mangled king dejectedly. "It's more fun when the pieces move and murder each other for you."

Harry grunted, and grabbed the mangled king from his grasp before popping it in the box.

"Lazy bum," he accused, "_If_ I didn't know better, I'd think winning in all the wizarding championships _and_ the muggle ones were getting to his head."

"They ARE getting to his head. His egos about the size of the World Cup Stadium!" Ginny stated as she sauntered in through the kitchen.

This was done with some waddling given her current state, which was all Harry's fault in Hermione's humoristic eyes. Oh, well. It least Harry had the decency to act sorry he was putting his wife through another nine months of morning sickness and double the baggage. You'd think they'd learn their lesson with the first batch.

Hermione sighed dreamily, wondering what it must be like to be hopelessly, stupidly in love enough to take on an extra kilo for a year-ish all in the hopes of doing it over again.

Harry rose to his feet and walked quickly over to his wife, slightly leaning over her 7 month gone stomach (twins, again!) to wrap his arms around her.

"There you are!" he grinned, kissing her thoroughly on the lips.

Ron groaned as the supposedly chaste kiss was punctuated a little longer by his own sister. "I heard pregnancy takes away sexual drive, but obviously you two prove the doctors wrong," he stated to the said couple.

Hermione snorted and grinned wickedly at Ron. "On the contrary, Ronald, during the last three months sexual intercourse is impossible or otherwise harmful to the baby. Hence, all the desire gets bottled up, in both partners. Your sister and our Harry, when this little thing is terminated, will explode with such passion…" Hermione began, throwing her hand to her forehead in dramatic effect, and would have gone on except Ron threw the box of checkers at her. She ducked, laughing.

Ron's face was a mortified red. "Don't say another word, Hermione! I'm going to be having images in my head…Eww!" Ron sprang to his feet and walked swiftly to the bathroom, slamming it quickly behind him.

Bill and Charlie were snorting in their fire whiskey, and Harry and Ginny were still holding each other and laughing their heads silly. Hermione joined in, lifting Ron's forgotten fire whiskey to sip.

On that note, the laughter was punctuated by two medieval war cries, as two streaks of movement barreled through the kitchen and ran smack into Ginny and Harry. Ginny nearly toppled, what with her weight, but Harry managed to keep her upright, as one pair of arms wrapped around her jean draped legs.

"MOM! William talked to Berneice again! He made her chase me. Then she tackled me in the garden, and she licked all over me!"

Ginny smiled, letting an arm slip from Harry to stroke her daughter Catherine's disheveled hair. "I can see that," she stated, eyeing the muddy streaks on her pink shirt.

She looked over at William, who was standing near the table, as far from possible parental wrath as he could. Berniece sat at his side, tail wagging away in innocence and mischief.

William had a special gift not many people were born with. Alright, one in a million happened to have this gift, but he could talk to animals. Or, as the wizarding world knew it, as Bestiatongue.

It wasn't like a Dr. Doolitle kind of deal. This was real, and with magic involved, real was a fascinating thing. Hermione suspected he'd inherited it from Harry's parseltongue in some form or another.

Harry took out his wand and bent, pulling Catherine from her Mother's legs. "Let's fix this for you, sweetie," he said, tapping the stains with his wand, "_Scourgify_!"

Catherine wrapped her arms around her Dad's neck, pouting to her fullest. "Will's a m**ean** brother! You should **pun**ish him!"

Her eye's lit with hope. "If you **make** him starve, can I have his cake, instead?"

Harry lifted an eyebrow.

Catherine sighed, heavily. "No in bl**ooo**dy h**ell**."

Ginny made a sound close to a gasp as she stared at her innocent 8year old. "Where in Dumbledore's name did you hear that?!" she exclaimed.

Harry coughed slightly, and Ginny turned that fierce temper on him. "Don't look at me!" he admonished. "I was thinking along the lines of a certain Uncle Ron."

"Y**up**," Catherine said cheerfully, "**Un**cle Ron did. And **Grand**pa, too, when B**ern**iece st**oled**ed one of the meats just now. That's why **I** didn't want her l**ick**ing me, see." She whispered this part sneakily to Harry, who nodded his understanding with grave in deference.

Ginny sighed and motioned for Will to come in the room. He entered slowly, taking his sweet, belligerent time about it. Hermione was deeply grateful her godchildren had a world to be belligerent in. Fate willing, they would always live that way.

Ginny bent a little, holding his arms out to the sides so she could assess the damage done with mud.

"_Scourgify_," she said efficiently. Will shrugged at the clean feeling of his clothes. Little boys always seemed uncomfortable unless they had some sort of atrocity dripping from their T-shirts. Ginny should know; she had a house full of brothers.

Hermione thought it was amazing she'd actually grown up to act like a girl. What was even more amazing, sometimes Hermione thought the guys took after her more. Ron especially could scream quite nicely like one; she knew from experience!

"Now, Will," Ginny began, resting her hands on her stomach, "It's great you can talk to Berniece. But, it's not acceptable to use her to torment your sister. Which is another wrong, but let's stick to this one. Berniece doesn't know better. So your making her…?"

"A_n eas_y ac_comp_lice?" Will supplied. He knew the drill of how lectures went. Mom left a blank, and you answered with the correct one.

"Close enough. Now, in the court of law, wizarding law, that is, what would that be called?"

William shifted on his foot, glancing at his Dad for help. Harry just grinned, letting him wiggle. "Ah…an _im_…an _Im_per_iat_i_s_tic Domin_ance_?"

Ginny nodded. "And?"

Will bit his tongue. "_Un_cle _Char_lie w_ould_ chew me out for using _Grand_pa's _baby_?"

Charlie chuckled. "Damn straight I would. Then, the ministry would make me send you to trial for misuse of Wizarded-animal rights. And, I'd prefer not to do that to my favorite nephew if you please."

"So," Harry supplied, his 4 year old son meeting his eyes, "Don't torment your sister with your animal friends, and save us the trouble. And keep her away from Grandpa's steaks, Will."

William scowled, crossing his arms. "_I_ _did_n't tell Berniece to do that. **_She_** j_ust_ m_ade_ that up to get my _cak_e. Berniece _di_d that _all_ by h_ers_elf!"

Harry frowned at the suddenly squirmy Catherine. "That true, Cat?"

Catherine turned in his arms and shot out her tongue at her brother. "T**attle**-tell!" she accused, pointing a finger at the space around his head.

"Which one?" Ginny asked no one in particular, leaning against the couch. Hermione scooted, and pulled her down next to her.

"Harry will just tell you to sit in a minute if I don't," she explained when Ginny shot her an exasperated look."

"I'm barely on my feet as it is! I swear, Harry even sends me a howler every hour…that doesn't even shout, it's more of a happy 'please, but you'd better!'...and he pops in at lunch just to make sure I'm sitting while he cooks me something _healthy_…"

Ginny blew out a breath, letting her head fall on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione let it sit there, even shifting so it rested in the crook of her neck more comfortably.

"Why did I think I wanted to do this whole thing again? Child bearing? Am I mad, Hermione?" she asked, with a ring of philosophical tone to it.

In Hermione's experience, your voice sounded that way only when you were able to entirely set your mind aside from reality and assess your own life. Hermione liked the drowsy, fuzzy feeling it made in your brain. If Ginny was feeling that way now, a nap was bound to be in order.

That meant after the party, when the twins were due for one. Parents didn't just have nap time set up for the kids; it provided them a break, too.

Mrs. Weasley waltzed into the room. Hermione watched in amusement as the magical clock next to her turned to point from kitchen, to the living room.

The little picture of Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head at her husbands picture, who was still pointing at the backyard.

The real Mrs. Weasley glared at the clock. Hermione only imagined she must be willing her husbands clock hand to turn to In Mortal Peril. Mrs. Weasley shook her head, squinting at the clock.

"I knew it was broken!" she mumbled. She turned her stare to the room, where it softened like butter when she spied her grownup children and grandchildren.

"Oh, **your** all here!-

-Fred and George are late, but we expect that. Good, well, your **_Father_** is nearly finished with his…meandering, and will bring in the meat in a moment. Shall we sit at the kitchen table and start?"

Harry stood, hanging Cat upside down as he did. She giggled out loud, which in human terms was a very loud squeal of mesmerizing proportions. Everyone in the room winced, and adjusted their hearing range to accommodate the noise.

Ginny beamed at the image of her daughter and her love of her life together.

"Y**EAH**, Birthday!" Cat shouted happily as Harry swung her through the air. William ran over when Dad set her down, tugging on his pants. "M_e_, _too_? Pl_eas_e! I w_ant_ a _g_o!"

Harry grunted slightly, as if it was a lot of muscle being used to do so, as he lifted him and gave the same treatment. Will applied the same shrieking as well.

Ginny lifted her head from Hermione's shoulders, sighing as the philosophical mood disappeared. "Guess I got to get back to being a mother now…CATHERINE! Don't you touch that cake!" Ginny leapt off the couch, walking swiftly into the kitchen to pry Catherine's fingers off the big serving spoon. Somehow she avoided Harry and the catapulting Will as she did.

Mrs. Weasley took Cat by the shoulders as Ginny returned the serving spoon to it's resting place. "It's bad luck on the person who eats birthday cake before the birthday boy or girl. It's a good thing your mother stopped you!" she admonished in a stage whisper. Ron laughed out loud at this, as he snatched his fire whiskey from Hermione.

"Mine," he said crisply.

Hermione smiled happily as she followed the Weasley mob into the warm kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was seating everybody, personally pushing the chairs in for her two precious grandchildren.

"There you are, my dears. Cat, don't fidget, you'll get your cake in a minute! And Will! Don't even think about sneaking food to Berneice! I can see you two conniving under there! She'd already gotten a steak today!"

Will lifted his head from under the table cloth, grinning at his Grandma. "Oh, _fine_."

Hermione shifted her hands into her pockets, waiting as the others argued over who got to sit by the birthday boy. Ginny won, of course.

She felt Mrs. Weasley take her arm gently. "Hermione, dear, you can sit here, next to Ron. You can see Harry from here, can't you?"

Hermione shifted her gaze to Harry's across the table, who was grinning at her. She smiled playfully. "Must I? He was so much more attractive when he was younger. I think he's getting a _little_…"

As she sat, Hermione punched at one of the balloons so it flew across the table. Harry grabbed it, inspecting the inflatable decoration.

"…Old and decrepit!" she finished, watching his eyes alight at the joke. Ron and his brothers chuckled.

Ginny glared at the balloon. "No doubt that's one of Fred and George's new creations," she said evenly. She glanced carefully at Harry. He didn't seem upset; in fact, he was poking at the balloon to see if it did anything else.

At this point, there came four distinct POPS, and 4 persons stood in the middle of the doorway.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUU!...CLAP CLAP CLAPPPPP! HAPPPPYYY BRRRRTTTHHHDDDYYYY…."

The two said miscreants themselves had their arms looped around each other, singing out with all their hearts in fake soprano voices. It sounded like howling merpeople out of water and drunk on cheap American beer and cherries (Hermione had once had an interesting experience doing this, but that was beside the sarcastic point!) Even Berneice had huddled near Will at the sound, whining.

Even with her ears ringing, Hermione was able to make out two very pretty twin blondes with it least one of the boy's arms around them. They were blushing like murder, mortally embarrassed by their dates. Understandable; they often went through girlfriends fast because most couldn't handle the practical jokes, the random-ness, the un-rule structured lifestyle, the eating habits, and the occasional moodiness of creative men with red hair and dragon hide robes.

So, Hermione poured herself some punch, casually eyeing the new batch of bachelorettes.

After a moment, when Cat finished gaping at her uncles and actually started singing along, Ginny got fed up and took out her wand. "_SILENCIO_!"

Fred and George glared at her a moment in the newly found silence. Then, Fred's eyes rolled back in his head, and he clutched at his throat, faking a choking session. George chose to point at his little sister and mouth obscenities with enunciations. Their escorts just glanced at each other, smiling. Well, points for them! Hermione wondered if these were possible long runners for the Weasley Twins.

Hermione chuckled. "Well, we know where Cat got her language, and it wasn't from Ron." Ginny nodded her agreement, grinning, while Ron looked confused.

"What about me?" he asked, eyebrows creased. Hermione shook her head. "Nothing. You were in the bathroom, washing images out of your head."

Ron blanched slightly, and looked away from her quickly. "Don't remind me! Happy thoughts, happy thoughts…" he began to mumble.

"Alright you both," Mrs. Weasley scolded, authoritarian, "It's just like you two to want to get the stage light, but you're going to have to wait for the rest of us to sing. We haven't officially started yet! Your father is…"

"FINISHED!" Mr. Weasley announced loudly, practically floating on cloud nine as he entered the kitchen. "Minus one steak; it's okay Berniece, your forgiven. If I do say so myself, they came out wonderful! Can't blame the old girl for wanting one, I know I'm drooling!"

Mr. Weasley grinned wildly at the occupants of the room, then spotted his wife, who was gaping at him as if she was surprised he hadn't burst into flames. He rushed over to her and gave her a tight hug.

"Molly, love! I'm sorry the grill scared you. But, it turned out well! I didn't burn a one! I used all the spices you laid out for me, and it tastes quite well!"

Mrs. Weasley closed her mouth and opened it again before she was able to find the words. "_Ah_…it's alright, Arthur. I…it's good you used the spices, and…

OH! I'm so happy! You didn't blow up!"

She kissed him quickly on the mouth, surprising him some in her abrupt change of behavior. Honestly, women slam the door in your face, the next their wet eyed and kissing you!

Hermione found it beautiful only the female could appreciate why.

Mrs. Weasley turned to the room, her voice slightly pitched. "Well?! What are we all sitting and sleeping at? Isn't this a party? Arthur!" She ordered him, "Get those steaks in here and start dishing them out! But let Ginny cut her own child's portions, she knows what they eat."

Mr. Weasley grinned at the thought of his steaks, and went to do so. Mrs. Weasley pointed a stiff finger at her twin boys. "You two! Seat your pretty friends and join us! Your late, again! _Desino_!" she pronounced, flicking her wand at them.

Ginny's silencing charm was broken, and George's date clutched at his mouth with her hand to keep any last uttered words from reaching Cat or Will's ears. Fred grinned at his date, and whispered something in her ear as he led them to their seats.

George pulled the chair out for his girl; Hermione raised a brow at this, as it was very charming, and the twins had never really been overly charming to any girls before. Interesting development.

Ginny leaned an elbow on the table as she also inspected the blondes.

"Fred, George, who is this?"

George grinned at his little sister and lifted a finger to stroke it along his blonde's cheek. "This, my dear Ginny, is the most charming nurse at Saint Mungo's Hospital!"

The said nurse blushed, even as she gripped the stroking hand with enough force to make George squeak. "Jessica Curry, Madame Minister. It's an honor to meet you!"

Ginny snorted, eyes sparkling in humor. "Please, Jessica, we're at a birthday party! You can call me Ginny; save that Minister hogwash for hearings and parades, please."

"And please don't address me as Minister of Magic, Sir, or _Harry_ **Potter**" Harry emphasized, smiling. "Plain _H_arry today and in the future will do, Jessica."

"Oh, yes sir! I mean, Harry," Jessica blushed.

She did that a lot, Hermione noticed. Slightly shy around strange people. But her movements around George weren't shy at all.

"How'd you two meet?" Hermione asked, curious.

Fred cleared his throat, getting comfortable in his wooden seat. "Well, 'Mione, that's an interesting story. George?"

George grinned. "Well, it was Saturday down at the Wizard Wheezes. We'd just got them goats Mum sent us…"

Fred added. "…And we were having a time at it, because the goats, Bucket, Spibbs, and Gollum**…**"

George whispered loudly into his date's ear,

"I called the last one Gollum because he hates me. He's crazy! You look in his eyes and you expect him to start saying '_Sméagol! Why does you cry Sméagol_?!…"

Hermione, a Lord of the Rings fan, laughed out loud, entertained.

"…Liked running around the shop, inspecting their home. We had to conjure a smart little barn in the back for them…" Fred continued.

"…Which took forever because Gollum kept butting my backside!" George whined.

"And," Fred put in, "After this, we decided a stop in at the Pub to get a cure for his sore behind. Plus, we were having some inventing problems and a good gallon of fire whiskey tends to help the mind process…"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I can only imagine how I raised such children." She said this to the ceiling rather mournfully.

George grinned at his mother. "Of course, we can't remember the specifics…"

"But we're told that we got so laid, we started doing the Macarena muggle style on the bar…" Fred chuckled.

"And the next thing you know, I'm waking up in Saint Mungo's with the worlds craziest hangover. And hovering over me is a golden angel with a wand and stethoscope around her neck. Has everyone known how sexy a stethoscope is but me this whole time?"

George looked at Jessica with a soft look of someone with an insane attachment. And was she looking back the same? Oh, yeah.

"You had a concussion and an alcohol consumption of .11, you idiot," she said lovingly.

George chuckled and kissed her hand. "And a bruised ego, but you took care of that too, didn't you?"

Fred cleared his throat. "I seem to have been forgotten at this point. Anyway, Fred somehow has a better immune system then me. He was completely sober, meanwhile I'm still blissfully unconscious…"

"So, Jessica took us home with her to her country house. I dumped Fred on the couch, then took Jessica out for pizza. She's never had any before, being a witch and all." George explained

"I, Fred, the forgotten innocent, woke up with a slight headache and pooh bear dancing in front of me in pirouettes. I didn't know where the bloody hell I was. Eventually he disappears, and I'm lured into the small kitchen, where I find my own angel wearing a white blouse, muggle black dress pants, humming and cooking something more sinful then her legs…"

"**That **angel was only cooking chicken alfredo, not tiramisu!" Fred's blonde interrupted humorously. She lifted an eyebrow congenially and looked at everyone's watching faces.

"I'm Jessica's twin, Heather. And, no, I'm not a nurse at Saint Mungo's. I'm actually a muggle musician. I play cello, and I'd just come from a concert, hence the blouse and dress pants."

"Really?" Hermione piped up, interest homing in on Heather the target. "Your good?"

Heather tilted her attention to Hermione, inclining her head. "Yes, I'm pretty good. I majored in Cello and Music Theory in College."

Hermione studied her intently a moment, serious. Heather whimsically smiled at her study.

Finally, Hermione said, "I like you. Remind me to talk to you later. I have some plans I might need your help on."

Heather's eyes sharpened on Hermione's face, eyebrows drawing together. "Wait a second…aren't you Hermione Granger? The witch who bought Hogwarts a few nights ago?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, lifting her punch to sip. "I am."

Fred made a triumphant sound and snapped his fingers. "HA! That reminds me! There was a lovely article written about you in the Daily Profit, 'Mione!"

George reached into Fred's side pocket and whipped a ripped paper out.

"As it reads…" he cleared his throat,

**H. Granger's Plans for Newly Bought Hogwarts:**

**Daring or Innocent?**

**The Wizarding community was shocked recently when Ms. Hermione Granger, supporter of Minister of Magic, Harry Potter, purchased Hogwarts at the ripe sum of a billion galleons. Until now, H. Granger was a muggle born witch of exceptional talent and influence. Hence, it was a shocking demographic when we discovered the real Ms. Granger.**

**Our in depth reporters dug deep into muggle technology, a thing they call "Internet". A complicated process of key pressing, and a Google search of 'Granger' proved some shocking information!**

**Hermione Granger is a multi-billionaire living in New York, USA. She owns million-dollar corporate companies and runs them herself. There is evidence of a dentistry, which up until now, has been using magic on muggle's teeth. One can only wonder if the Ministry knew of this, or if it has been illegally done.**

**Granger has been aiming big secretly, and the wizarding community has to wonder and perhaps worry about her plans for former Hogwarts.**

**A very reliable source has claimed Granger is working with contacts in the USA to open a secret military school for British and English spies.**

**Another theory is that Hogwarts will be turned into a mental ward. Granger had made general donations to the Institution for Mentally Handicapped and Psychiatry Study, a muggle thing. Could Granger be expanding?**

"**I personally hope she reopens the school," a Witch Paravati of 3 children told Witch Weekly. "I'd love for my children to go to the school I attended. And Ms. Granger would be the best to do it."**

**What will Hermione Granger really do with Hogwarts? A hearing is scheduled where Granger plans to announce publicly and legally what those just are.**

A chuckle escaped George's mouth as he finished. "I personally like the idea of a British spy facility. I think I'd make a wonderful James Bond!"

"I was thinking you'd do well in an insanity ward, myself," Ron joked.

"So, what are you planning to do with Hogwarts, Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked, as he came in. He was bearing a steaming platter of steak with him.

Hermione bit her lip, thinking over the article with amusement. "Honestly, I wasn't aiming for James Bond and a Patch Adams angle."

Ginny took a steak and begin cutting it up for Cat. She shot Hermione a curious look. "Are you planning on opening up the school again?"

Hermione sucked in a breath, silent. This would be the first time she'd told her plans to anyone but her cat, Crookshanks Jr. The anticipation to tell her desperate plan to the people she loved most was weighing on her like a sharpened sword.

She wanted their support and advice. Badly.

"In a way," she replied slowly. "I'm opening a school not to teach magic to muggles and wizards, but…"

Hermione took a deep inhale.

…to teach art and music."

Punch glasses clinked against the table as everyone who had been holding them slowly put them down in the silence that followed.

"Art and Music?" Heather frowned. "What do you mean?"

Hermione looked down, tracing a finger along her plate.

"I want to open Hogwarts as a School for Wizarding Arts. Mixing muggle music and magic together to unite muggle's and wizards in a way their not so different.

Music is a universal enjoyment. In fact, it's one of the only things the two can talk about and understand one another. Imagine the bridge, Harry, it would gape on our muggle and pureblood prejudice reforming!

If we can get muggles and wizards playing with their hearts and souls together, as one body…"

Hermione trailed off, emotion sweeping through her. She looked up at Harry. He was watching her gravely.

"When you say muggles, your not meaning muggles with magical ability, are you?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "The students will be muggles without the magical trait, Harry. They are some of the best masters of music known."

He sighed, shaking his head at her.

"The Ministry is going to be outraged at that Hermione. Your asking them to reform their restrictions on magic around muggles. If you do this, you'll be making our world known to muggles in a way that has been unwanted for 14 centuries."

"And is that so horrifying?" Hermione asked him, voice chilly. "You and I both thought ourselves muggles before we got our letter.

It's because of the separation, that wizards and witches have grown up with a sense of ignorance to muggles, and their disregard for them and their life style. Little children remark how muggles are stupid !

What is so wrong with wanting to bring a small percentage together? For something as innocent and magnifying as art and music? It can't be that horrendous that I'll be sent to Azkaban."

"I wouldn't let that happen," Harry assured her, "But, the ministry will want precautions set up, and a good argument at the hearing, before they consent to anything. It's going to be a battle, 'Mione. I hope your committed enough."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm a billion galleons committed, Harry. And you know I'm good with arguments."

Heather folded her arms, eyes intent on Hermione. "What are your plans for your music school? What kind of a school will it be?"

Hermione leaned on her arms on the table, thinking back on her dreams she'd planned already.

"It's not going to be some pithy summer program for Band or orchestra. Hogwarts deserves better. No, I want this school to shine out all others as one of the newest, most prestigious schools of the World."

Heather made a sound of appreciation. "I like the sound of that. What sort of classes and programs would you offer? To what ages?"

Hermione lifted a knife and began cutting her steak that Mr. Weasley had levitated to her plate. "Can't even tell you specifically, as I haven't planned it all. I think starting at 11 years, like we did is a good idea, going on up. The school will teach the basic Forms of Art:

**Art** itself, **Music**, **Theatre/Drama**, **Cinema**, **Literature**, and **Dance**. Each category with have studies pertaining to the forms of that group. Architecture, Computer graphing, pottery, Marching band, strings, percussion, choirs…"

"Your planning big indeed," Jessica stated, observing Hermione's dreamy look, and passion filled voice.

"It's not just big, it's daring." Heather said carefully, curiosity glowing in her own blue eyes. "Who will your recruit for teachers?"

Hermione cocked her head, chewing her steak thoroughly before swallowing. "I want to hire the best of the best. Renowned musicians who people will read their names and recognize. Muggles and Wizards. I have a few people in mind. I'd need a cellist teacher, of course."

Heather blushed and looked down at her own untouched steak. "I'm not renowned, Hermione. You wouldn't want an amateur like me at your school."

Fred frowned and lifted a hand to her blond locks. "Your better then amateur, Heather. I've heard you at your concert."

Heather lifted her head, smiling sweetly at Fred. "Thanks, dar', but your not a music major. A wailing banshee would sound as beautiful as me in your ears."

Hermione set her fork down on her plate, all seriousness. "Heather, I don't care if Fred is tone deaf, which he is. The least you could do is play for me and let me decide."

Heather tapped her fingers against the gold table cloth, considering.

"I suppose I could play for you, if you get approved for the school."

Hermione chuckled, scowling slightly. "There's no IF. I will, whether the Ministry approves or not. Hogwarts will be a school, one way or another."

"**Hog**warts? Is**n't** that the **scho**ol you went to Da**ddy**, **Mom**my?"

Ginny grinned at her daughter, who had a lovely smudge of ketchup on her face. "Yes, Cat. Your father and I learned magic at the former Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when we were 11."

"_Bu_t A_unt_ _Herm_ione owns it n_ow_, r_ight_?" Will asked.

Harry nodded his head at him. "Yes, Hermione does. She was just saying how she wants to change it back into a school again."

Ginny sighed, and leaned against Harry's shoulder. "I miss those days. I wish you children could see it. It was, **_is_** magnificent."

Harry put his arm around his wife, suddenly tense. Ginny turned her head to study his face intently. She knew what Harry felt and looked like when he was contemplating an idea. His eyes held that look that suggested he was analyzing an idea that was both fantastic and grave.

"Ginny, would you like to go see Hogwarts?" He asked suddenly, intent on her reaction.

Ginny's brows drew together. "Why, yes, I guess…"

"Kids," he addressed them, "After the birthday party, instead of your regular nap, would you like to take a visit to Hogwarts? It would be kind of like an after dinner walk."

Cat and Will gaped at each other, before erupting in twin yelps of "**YE**S! Th_anks_ Dad!"

Ginny sat up, frowning. "Miss their nap? Are you crazy?"

Harry shrugged, smiling whimsically. "Running around the grounds will tire them out quick enough, and we can just floo powder them back. Besides, I've missed seeing Hogwarts."

"But you forget," Ginny pointed out, "Hermione owns it. You might want to ask her if it's alright before you plan anymore schemes."

The Potter family all turned expressive faces to her. How could she resist? Especially Harry; That puppy pout always undid her.

"It wouldn't be a problem. I haven't really been able to walk around it, either. It would be fun. Does it count as your birthday present?" She asked, hopeful.

Harry grinned wickedly at her. "Not a chance."

Hermione laughed, crossing her legs under the table. "Good, because that autographed firebolt from World renowned Krum wasn't easy to come by."

Ron snorted. "I bet. All you had to do was owl him asking for one, sign your name in Xs and O's, and he'd send you one."

Hermione fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Was that a sarcastic or jealous tone, Ron? Besides, I can't help it a girl has friends in high places."

"Hip Cheerio, can we get onto the cake? I finished my steak ages ago." Cat whined, executing a battle between her fork and knife over the beautiful damsel spoon.

"Good Heavens! We forgot the Happy Birthday, didn't we!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, standing up to relight the candles. They burned out at some point in the evening.

"That we did," Harry smiled.

Ron chuckled. "Thought you'd get our of it, did you mate?"

"Not a chance," Ginny grinned, taking Harry's hand.

"Alright everybody, on three. Will, perhaps you can ask Berniece to sing along? Like you mean it now!

1…2…**3!"**

Everyone took a deep collective breath, and then began to sing with gusto.

"H-A-P-P-YYY-B-I-R-T-H-D-A-YYYYYYY, TO Y-O-UUUUUUU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!"

Harry blushed, and slouched in his chair. The typical reaction of the birthday spectacle.

"YOU LIVE IN A ZOO! YOU LOOK LIKE A MONKEYYYYYYYYYYY!"

There was another collective breath.

"ANNNNND! YOU SMELL LIKE ONE TOOOOOOO!"

The balloons designed by Fred and George exploded as a group, spraying confetti and small monkey fireworks spinning around the room. Cat and Will squealed and grabbed at them. Berniece was chasing her tail, excited by the noise and laughter.

Hermione and Ron had gotten up during the singing. They both wrapped their arms around a grinning Harry, making them once again the Golden Trio.

"**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY POTTER**!"

Okay, that took long enough! Man I love cookie dough.

Alright, I know alot of that was piling on the information, but I couldn't resist whatever popped in my head. My good friend remarked I write too much, but i can't help it!

Next chapter will be the Hearing. I don't know when I'll have it up, but that's going to be an intense chapter. I'll need to be in a courtroom/pirates of the carribean mood in order to write it well enough. Thanks to all my reviewers! I'm sorry I'm a spurty writer. Bye

I want more cookie dough...


	3. Harry's Memories

Harry's Memories

Cat looked around in wonder as the port key deposited the group at the gates of Hogwarts. For a youngster, she was very quick on her feet.

Hermione had never gotten used to it, no matter how many times Harry had dragged her through port key's in their adventures. Hence, she huffed out a breath as she landed on her rear in the dirt.

Harry and Ginny together set Will's feet on the ground, perfectly upright themselves. Will grinned down at his Aunt, almost tauntingly.

"Now wonder I prefer to drive," she thought out loud. Hermione got to her feet, patting her rear for dirt.

"Is this Hogwarts?" Cat asked eagerly. She was gripping the bars of the gate in her little fists, peering through them eagerly.

Will joined her, frowning. "All I see is a lake, and some dumb ol' trees!"

Harry walked over to his children, putting a hand on each shoulder.

Ginny gripped Hermione's arm, slightly worried. Hermione was watching Harry too.

It was always unspoken that Harry was trying to forget his memories of Hogwarts, preferably the last hard years. Hermione was slightly surprised Harry had even suggested they visit it. It had been years since he had even really spoken of the School.

Hermione wondered what was going on in his head right now, as he gazed at old memories with his children.

"There, Will," Harry said evenly, pointing a hand through the bars. "It rests above the lake there, on the hill."

Cat made a gushing sound of pure childhood awe, and she jumped up and down. "I see it! I see it, Daddy! Oh, can we go inside? Please?!"

Harry smiled, rubbing a hand over her curls. "We didn't come all this way for nothing, now did we?"

Ginny breathed out, as she stepped up to Will. "You want to go, honey?"

Will was staring at the old castle, serious and contemplative. "Can we go inside? It looks haunted."

Hermione laughed, along with Harry and Ginny.

"It **is** haunted," Hermione assured him, stepping up to the gate, "And yes, we can go inside. But, watch where you're going. And I think it would be best if you don't go through anything that's a door. We don't know if we'll ever find you again!"

Cat stopped her jumping, eyes wide. "We can get lost in there?"

Harry chuckled. "Oh, yeah. Uncle Ron and I were late to plenty of classes because we'd take a wrong turn, and end up in some dungeon...or the third floor corridor," he finished, going silent.

Hermione cleared her throat and put her wand to the key hole in the gate, attempting to change the subject.

"Don't forget the trick stair, that evil wall that turns around when someone touches it, or, my personal favorite, those changing staircases!" Hermione snorted, remembering how she'd often found herself and her books falling back down the stairs why they tilted and swerved.

Ginny frowned at the gate.

"Did you hear what happened our 7th year? Some kids in the dungeons got lost on the way to class. They ended up in a room with four doors. Every door they took seemed to lead to the same place. Eventually, someone realized they were missing. I believe a ghost finally found them. They had to drill through a wall to get to them, though, because the room is spelled to never let you out once your in."

Cat whistled a little "Cooool". Will was slightly white as he backed away from he gate.

Hermione glanced at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay Will. There aren't things like that all over. Besides, a lot of the rooms are fun!"

Harry glanced at her Hermione's wand still in the keyhole. "Ah, Hermione, are you opening the gate or not?"

She glanced sharply at him. "In a minute. The gate opens with a password. The owner establishes the password."

"What you pick for a password?" Ginny asked.

Hermione bit her lip. "I haven't established it yet. Hey, Cat, what should the password be?"

Cat glanced at the gate, wetting her lips. "I can choose? Okay, um…Princess Diana!"

Will grimaced. "That's not a password, that's a person. It doesn't count…and it's girly!"

Cat glared at him. "It is not! And it does too count!"

Hermione cleared her throat. "I like it. It's a famous muggle figure, so wizards and such won't guess it as a password. Good security. And she was an amazing person. Yes, I think it's a beautiful password."

Hermione turned her attention back to the lock. "Princess Diana," she said evenly. The wand jerked in her hand once, then there was a clicking sound.

The gate swung open, it's joints groaning as the rust broke. Hermione bit her lip and mentally added _Oil Gate Hinges _to her Remodeling List.

"Well," she cleared her throat, "Shall we go in?"

Ginny shared a look with Harry, and smiled. "Yeah."

Hogwarts certainly looked different in the light. Hermione found herself once again awed by the splendor of the architecture and the grounds. They weren't as bright and alive as before in her school years. The mood was one of a cemetery, or a ruin.

The grasses and gardens were overgrown with weeds. Some of the statues needed desperate saving. Some were crumbling from the elements, while others had fallen over and given up to the ivy.

The ponds and fountains were dry, their sides water stained and filled with leaves. The windows were cracked, panes fallen and shattered under her feet. Hermione mused that the atmosphere would inspire requiems of death and poems of sadness.

She would have that, but included would be the gayness, the light, the life of a rhapsody in G. A music school needed beauty and inspiring atmosphere if it was to motivate its students. Hermione knew Hogwarts would give her that. It had given it to her years ago.

"It's so quiet," Ginny remarked as they walked in the hall under the big clock bell. Harry was oddly silent.

Hermione poked her head into the infirmary door, coughing as layers of dust flew off the floor. "The bell needs fixing and tuning as well." They stepped into the old infirmary room. Kat and Will rushed in ahead of them.

The room had that musky scent as all the others had. The 10 infirmary beds were where they had always been. One under each window, their white iron headboards draped with yellowed sheets and curtains.

Kat jumped on one bed, giggling as she began bouncing. "Look, mommy!" She squealed, "The beds have light fairies!"

Ginny grinned at the dust her daughter kicked up. It danced in the beams of light from the windows. Her daughter had always liked to believe they were light fairies.

Will sauntered over to a corner. "COOL!" he mouthed, bending over.

A black widow, her rump fat with eggs, climbed about her extensive web.

Will cleared his throat and, adjusting his mouth to spider language, said, "Good day, madam."

The widow stopped what she was doing and seemed to turn those beautiful black eyes onto him.

"Good day, wizard," she croaned. Will held out a finger to her in invitation. She looked at it, then attentively pulled herself onto his finger with her long, lustrous legs.

Will held her up to eye length, being gentle.

"I haven't seen a wizard in these parts for on a 10 years," the widow said, watching him.

"My Aunt has bought the place," Will explained, "We're looking around it. She wants to start the school up again."

The widow fidgeted on his finger, and she clicked her spider lips worriedly. "She isn't going to clean out this place is she? I'm soon to be laying eggs!"

Will glanced around the dirty room. "Uh, I think she'll have to. But if I explain your situation, I think she'd let you relocate, you and your family. When are you due?"

The widow relaxed some, tickling his finger with her legs. "Thank you. I'm due in a week."

"Will!" Ginny stepped up next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Honey, I know your sociable, but I'd prefer if you'd leave black widows alone, please?"

Will sighed, and shrugged at the spider. "I have to go. I'll put a word in with my Aunt, madam."

Will set his finger against the web, waiting. The spider sat on his finger still. "Darling, you're the first wizard I've talked to in a _long_ time. It isn't often one of your talent is born. I feel you are destined to great things, like your father."

Will's eyes lit. "You knew my father at school?"

The widow chuckled with her pinchers. "Oh, yes. He had a brush with my family in his second year. Hagrid has a special affinity with animals, if not your talent. Farewell, wizard."

The widow hopped off his finger, onto her web, and continued about her work.

Will straightened and went back to his family.

Hermione had dragged Kat off the bed. Holding her in her arms, she frowned at them.

"Those mattresses will need replacing if this room is to be operational again," she remarked.

Ginny stepped up next to her. "You're having an infirmary?"

Hermione smiled. "If I'm to open this school year long, yes. Kids need somewhere to go if they have an injury. Which, if you remember, happened a lot."

Ginny smiled, eyes soft with memories. "That we did. Especially Harry," she teased loudly to the room, "He was in here too many times to count!"

Silence met her remark. She turned and looked for her husband, but he wasn't in the room.

Ginny turned worried eyes to Hermione. "Did you see him leave?"

Hermione frowned at the door. "Actually, I don't remember him coming in. He must have wandered somewhere else."

Ginny's eyes widened in concern, and she gripped Hermione's shoulder. "I don't want him alone, Hermione. His memories of this place bother him."

Hermione nodded, and handed Kat to her mother. "Okay, the hall only leads either to the main hall or the grounds. How about you take the kids into the castle and I'll check outside?"

Ginny breathed out, setting Kat on the ground. "Right. You're right. I needn't panic, I know. Harry's too resilient and strong to be…and he'd hate it if he knew I was worried about him."

Hermione grinned, opening the infirmary door. "That's the spirit, Mum!"

Hermione turned right, walking hurriedly under the clock and stepping onto the grassy slope.

She remembered punching Malfoy at this spot, when she'd caught him trying to watch the beheading of Buckbeak. It was one of her proudest memories.

Hermione figured there were only so many places she could name off the top of her head to go to on this side of the castle. Hagrids Hut, she already knew, was caved in by a massive tree that fell during a storm, so he wouldn't be there. He could be going to the Womping Willow, which was still kicking she'd heard.

Hermione set off for the path that led to the bridge. Once over that it was a short walk to the Willows base. She scampered over the stream that had taken over part of the path, and up the steps to the arch bridge.

She looked down it's length, and slowed, seeing the person leaning against the side. Hermione took a deep breath, and let it out. She slid her hands into her pockets, and continued at a walk towards her friend.

Harry, staring down at the canyon below, glanced at her as she set her elbows in a mirror stance of his on the ledge.

"Hey," she said, smiling. He looked back down, silent with his thoughts.

Hermione fished around in her mind for something to say, and came up with no script. Oh, well then. She'd play it by ear.

"You missed it. Kat was jumping in the beds, and Will found a spider friend to talk to."

Harry's eyes shifted to the forbidden forest on the far side of the cliff. "I hope it wasn't the size of a room and hoping to eat him?" His voice was a strange lit. Slightly weary, and under it, an anger.

Hermione grabbed a loose stone, and flung it over the side. "No," she said mildly, "But I doubt Hagrid would appreciate you sarcasm about his finally deceased friend."

Harry made a sound of annoyance, running his face through his hands. "Hagrid is as innocent about his _friends _as Goblins are with theirs. The times we were pitted against his other's and nearly killed are too many to count!"

Hermione pushed away from the ledge. "Why'd you run out here, Harry? You know Ginny was worried the second we saw you were gone!"

Harry turned his face away from her, troubled.

"Don't think I don't know the looks you two shared. She doesn't think I can handle _this_. **_This_**!" He clipped out, flinging his hands to encompass the entire concept of Hogwarts.

Hermione raised a know-it-all brow. "Told you, did she? Or'd you assume? Because Harry, if you think Ginny doesn't believe in you, in your strength, your are **mental**. She may be concerned about how you feel being here, but we're just being females! She trusts you with her life. You think I don't? Harry, you led the world against darkness! How can we not believe in you?"

Harry turned, and pinned her with green eyes. They blazed with the temper she'd seen come to life in him always. "That's just it, Hermione. I led the world against darkness because it was decided. I didn't want it, any less then I wanted this scar to be carved into me."

He reached up and slid a stiff finger over it. "And that burden was made harder by fame, the jealousy and hate that came along. How many times was I shunned because of it? Hermione? How many?"

She stayed silent, letting him remember for himself.

"And the Ministry, the wizards, the men all keeping plots and secrets…oh, the secrets!...Forcing me to uncover them one by one. Why?"

He chuckled, bitterly. "It was planned, Hermione. Every detail, by the very man I looked to as my rock. Dumbledore, I can't hate him, for he made mistakes himself. They cost me though, didn't they? Not him! They never hurt him! Sirius was killed because of it!"

Harry stepped towards her, hands at his sides. "Remember Dumbledore's death? The drama of it now, how tricked I was, makes me hurt to remember, Hermione."

Hermione opened her mouth now, to speak calmly. "Dumbledore and Snape tricked everyone with their illusion, Harry. Including Voldermort."

"But it was that which prompted him to move, Hermione! That was planned as well. My entire life has been a magical chessboard, with Dumbledore and Voldermort facing off. And I was the King on the white side."

He cursed and turned back to the ledge, fists clenched.

"I've been a house elf on a leash, Hermione. Doing my masters bidding when asked or ordered, and being fed scraps of food for my troubles in life."

He sighed, resting his head against the stone. "And I was given the certificates of achievement, the trophies and applause. But behind the smiles and hand shakes I was already being manipulated. And I'm tired of remembering it, Hermione." He breathed heavily. "Tired."

Hermione looked at him, seeing the strain and the feelings she'd never wanted to see buried in him. She stepped up close to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said sternly, "You're forgetting the part _you_ played, Harry. No man can plan existence or the outcomes of things. Who led the final battle, Harry? Dumbledore, or yourself?"

"It was planned…" He began, but she cut him off with a temper of her own.

"Stop having a self-pity session! You know perfectly well the battle was prophesized. If you were Dumbledore, would you just let that happen? Let Voldermort win? Do you think he _wanted_ to put all that burden on you, Harry?"

Hermione leaned back against the ledge again, agitated.

"I know it hurt him to hold you as a baby and know you were the world's only hope, and you didn't even have a choice in the matter.

I know it hurt him to send you to your Aunt and Uncles because it was the safest place for you to be.

Yes, he manipulated you, and everyone, really, to get you through the prophecy. Would you have preferred he didn't?

He could have let you blunder through it and hope you succeeded, but we both know you probably wouldn't have.

And you're the one who got into the trouble, because you wanted the secrets answered before he would tell you. He was forever trying to protect you. Always saving you.

That is your own free will, Harry and your forgetting it. You led the battle yourself, and you killed Voldermort yourself!"

And by doing so, you triumphed with Dumbledore, Harry. You made the trials and the resistance worth it."

Hermione's strict, condescending tone softened. "You made the world safe for families, Harry. Even for your own. Do you look at Ginny and your kids. Or even me and Ron, and Mrs. And Mr. Weasley, and regret all you and Dumbledore did to make it possible for them?"

"No," he said reluctantly, but he smiled.

When he didn't say anything else, Hermione added some lightness. "And before you go taking all the credit for our little Save-the -World- Adventure, what were Ron and me doing during all this plotting and manipulating? Eating tea and crumpets? I'd like to think you enjoyed **some** of the fun we had."

Harry turned his face back to her again. His eyes were back to normal, and the happy Harry she knew smiled at her.

"I did enjoy some of it, Hermione. A lot of it, I suppose."

Hermione took his arm and tugged. "See? You've taken off them colored glasses that makes our black and white existence look neat. Why don't you put them back on, and we'll go find your wife and delinquents before Peeves attacks them or something?"

She pulled him a few feet before he stopped her, his eyes intent and pained. "I know a lot of what I said was bitter and not true, Hermione. But I've had it hidden in me a long time, and I can't help but feel it here. I haven't wanted to come here for a long time because I knew I would remember it. Should I be ashamed of that, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head, her empathy for her friend strong. "No, no Harry. Your feelings are true, and you should never be ashamed of them. But, I'm glad you let them out finally. It's always good to find an outlet for them."

Harry smiled, and began to walk towards the castle with her. "An outlet…like your music school?"

Hermione shut her eyes, picturing her dream in her mind. "Music is one of the best outlets in the world, Harry, for your emotions. Life, even some say, the spirit world, is a flowing stream of vibes. The Hindu and Asian traditions call it Zen, and have medicines and things to give you the vibes you want.

Colors do this. Reds can inspire passion and violence, while blues refresh and calm.

Outlets channel this Zen into something productive, and get the burden off your mind. Sort of like a Penseive, in a sense. You should get one, Harry, for these memories that can bother you."

"I don't think I need it anymore, Hermione," he said evenly. "I feel better just talking to you about it. Ginny's been trying forever to talk to me about it. But I've never been able to until…this place."

"Ah. I suggest you should still discuss it with her now, Harry. It's important, I think, for both of you to trust each other with this."

"I trust her with everything," Harry said, his tone meaning it, "And I will now. And Hermione…"

He stopped under the clock tower, smiling gratefully at her. "Thanks for listening. And for making me see sense. And I'll find that outlet."

Hermione grinned, and opened her mouth to crack a joke, when Harry stiffened, and looked towards the castle.

"Something's wrong," he said, beginning to walk briskly towards the hall.

Hermione hurried to follow. "What's wrong?"

Harry shot her a worried look. "Ginny. Ever since we had Kat and Will, we've both been able to _feel_, like a sixth sense, about he other. Something's wrong with her."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she pulled out her wand. "Is it the twins in her?"

Harry looked slightly panicked at the thought. "I don't know. Let's find her."

* * *

I know that wasn't The Hearing. But I realized there are two important things that must happen before that. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. It means alot to me to have people reading my long, rambling work. I'll try to not worry you all too much with Ginny's plight, and write soon.

-bnthridiot


	4. You're the Headmistress of Hogwarts!

Disclaimer: _I do not own any of the characters or suggested references to the Harry Potter books. Like everybody else, I'm impressed with the story and can't help but imagine my own version to the ending._

_Sorry it took so long, but I'm on spring break, so I figured this week I'd get in a chapter for everyone.…_

* * *

Cat galloped down the hall, her shrill laugh echoing up into the rafters. As the vibrations rippled over stone and wood, it chilled, becoming a ghostly sound, with the swinging cords of dust that hung from every object.

Ginny smiled as the sound sent chills running down her spine, and she put a protective hand over her belly to see what the twin's reactions to the hollow sound would be. They shifted under her hand, and Ginny felt a little fist ball itself under the taut stomach. She sighed, rubbing soothingly, keeping an eye on Will and Cat.

Cat glanced ahead and noticed with pleasure a flock of pigeons pecking about in the sunlight that filtered through the hole in the roof. Holding her breath, she ran into the midst of them, then yelled "FLY, BIRDIES, FLY!"

After the initial surprise wore off, the birds lifted their wings, cooing and flapping in different directions. Cat laughed and spun with her arms outstretched and her head thrown back. The scattering birds seemed to make a dance around her.

Cat's smile froze for a moment on her face, as a heady, strange timeless sensation rose up and seemed to swamp her senses. Time almost slowed, and the bird near her face seemed to take forever for his wing to flap. In her mind, she wondered why it felt so right.

"CAT!"

Time seemed to snap back in her world, and the pigeons took off in a flurry. Cat tried to get her mind to catch up with it too. But, when she stopped spinning, the vision in her head continued to spin too. Cat stumbled, her head reeling, and crashed into the dust covered statue of armor. She fell in a heap, the pieces of hammered metal skidding and spinning until they crashed across the floor.

Cat shook her head as the last pains of dizziness disappeared, and she glanced down the hall to see who had called her name.

Will hurried up to her, his face twisted in annoyance. "You scared them! They didn't like it!"

Cat grinned sheepishly at him, getting to her feet. "Who, the pigeons?"

"Yes, the pigeons! Must you always annoy animals? They have feelings too, you know."

Cat blinked her eyes at him mischievously, and began skipping further down the hall. "Well, I like scaring them. Besides," she said, cocking her head to listen, "I think I hear some more down that way!" With that, she took off faster.

Will heard the cooing too, and the urge to catch his sister with retribution in mind was all too appealing.

Ginny noted with a slight tingle of dismay her children running off into the shadows, and she carefully picked up her pace, although it was nothing to match theirs. "CAT! WILL! Slow down! I can barely see you!" She raised her voice after them.

If Cat and Will heard, they ignored their mother's commanding tone. Chasing each other was more fun then listening to rules.

The feeling of prey being hunted made Cat feel giddy, and her breath came out in pants as she tried evading her brother. But he was faster, and Cat had slipped once on some wet floor. As a result, he was tailing her, ever closer.

As Cat veered to go around a corner, Will slammed into her, his arms tightening around her waist. "Gotcha!" He yelled victoriously.

But the push, and the fast turning around the bend sent them careening into the wall, where they were engulfed in a thick tapestry that smelled of mold and dust. Cat and Will coughed on it, and they pushed at the rotten folds. Cat looked up, and noted that the tapestry had once depicted a knight of some sort, but time had bleached his image to a ghostly gray.

Ginny came waddling around the corner, a very tiffed retort on her tongue. She saw her children crash into the tapestry, it's corners billowing with the movement and air. Before she could voice her displeasure, it stuck in her throat.

As Cat and Will turned curious expressions her way, the knights eyes seemed to glow, and the knights arms lifted from its sides. The tapestry moved of its own accord, and wrapped itself around her children. Cat and Will's surprised gasps were muffled as it tightened around them.

Ginny reached for her wand with lightening speed from out of her cloak and pointed it at the tapestry attacking her children. "_**ABSCIDO PROLIX**_!" She yelled.

A beam of blue light exploded from her wand and engulfed the knight tapestry in its essence. The eyes of the knight seemed to glow angrily, but it did not release her children.

The blue light seemed to scream and then began to tear like cloth. Ginny's spell was shredded into long strips of blue light that were gripped in the knight tapestry's grasp. The knight turned its head, glaring at Ginny from out of its helmet, and tossed the shredded spell back at her.

Ginny spun and threw herself into an alcove, her back to the opening. The spell missed her, its broken tendrils caressing the nape of her neck with heat, before it exploded against the glass window in the hall.

Ginny waited a moment, pressing the tip of her wand against her stomach to check the babies. They were alright. But her others weren't. With a mother's instinctive anger and fear drumming in her heart, she stepped out from the alcove, her wand ready.

But the hall was silent. The tapestry rested lifelessly against its wall of stone, its ragged ends hanging like it was dead. The knight's eyes were barely wisps of thread, unthreatening.

And Cat and Will were gone.

Ginny breathed heavily, glancing down the hall. "CAT! WILL!"

Her calls echoed down the empty halls. They were long and bare. She knew she would have been able to see them running in either direction if they had.

The fear rose to almost choke her as she stumbled toward the tapestry. "Will…Cat…" she began to whisper. Her hands pawed at the cloth, letting parts of it crumble to the floor as she searched for her children. She pushed it aside, ignoring the dust, seeing if they were concealed behind.

All that greeted her eyes was the blank stone wall.

"NO!" She bit out, gripping the tapestry in her fists. She yanked on it in anger, trying to rip it from its bracing, but it refused to budge permanently. She only succeeded in ripping a solid line down the knight's shoulder.

She looked desperately into its face, anger swirling in her eyes. "Where are my children?! WHERE?!"

The knight didn't answer her.

* * *

Will groaned as someone's shoe kicked him in the cheek. "OW! CAT! Ger'off!" He said, using his Uncle Ron's terminology in this case.

The foot moved carefully away. "Sorry, Will," Cat said apologetically, sitting up. She opened her eyes, but saw only darkness. She blinked, making positively sure she had opened her eyes before gripping Will's shoulder hard.

"OW! I _said_…" He stopped short, realizing why his sister was grabbing at him. "Okay, hold on a moment."

Will rolled onto his side so he could reach his back pocket, and pulled something out from it. He scooted over to Cat, who was beginning to shake like a bunny caught in the headlight of the Night Bus. Which considering the Night Bus was a terrifying thing!

"Here we go, Cat," he said reassuringly, cracking a long stick. The end blinked, than lit up like his mom and dad's wands often did.

Cat breathed in with relief as the light chased away the darkness. She was deathly afraid of the dark. Will never was; he claimed it was because there was always someone in the dark to talk to, like spiders or vermin.

That was hardly reassuring for Cat. But it helped that he was there.

"What's that?" She asked curiously, taking a hold of the stick. It was warm to the touch, and the glow smelled like lemon tart.

"It's an Alorhomora for Wandless Wizards," he explained, "Uncle Fred and George invented them for those kids who can't have wands to do magic yet."

"How come no one told me about them?" She pouted. "I would have bought them all out!"

Will stood, brushing his pant legs to get the dust off. "I don't think mom would have liked you staying up all night with a light on. _Anyhows_, I bought it with my own money last year. It's an old model, outdated by now."

Cat held the wand close to her, looking around them. "Where are we?"

They rested on a landing between two narrow walls that curved down into the dark. Cat reached forward, holding out her stick. It's light revealed the stone steps leading down into the darkness. Cold air drifted from down below to brush at her face.

She shuddered and got to her own feet, backing away from the edge of the landing. She cuddled closer to her twin brother, looking back at him. "Will, what happened with the tapestry? It was so quick!"

Will shook his head, feeling around the wall that enclosed them in this passage. "Not sure. First we're falling against the raggedy old thing, next it's wrapping us up and mom's yelling."

"That's creepy, you know? Dad and mom did say this place was full of strange things," Cat remembered.

Will nodded. "I think it…ate us, in a way. Not like that!" He reassured quickly when her eyes widened, "I think the tapestry just transported us from that side of the wall to this side of the wall, that's all."

Cat rubbed her sweaty palms together and thought. "So, mom's probably just on the other side!"

"Yeah," Will agreed, rapping his fingers against the stone. They were too thick to make a sound, and it only hurt his knuckles, so he stopped. "Guess we'll have to wait here until they can get us out."

He slid to the ground again, crossing his legs and folding his arms patiently. Cat slid down more slowly next to him, holding the Alorhomora for Wandless Wizards tightly to her chest. They waited, their shoulders brushing with each heavy sigh.

Those sighs became more frequent as time seemed to drag on, and on, and on, and on, and on….and on……

….and on….

….and on…

"AH! I can't stand this!" Cat wailed, uncrossing her legs.

Will opened an eye and studied her. "What?"

Cat scowled at him. "I'm not going to just sit here while mom and dad and Aunt Hermione take their sweet time rescuing us. I want to do something!"

Will opened both eyes and yawned. "Can't you entertain yourself in your mind, any?"

"No," she said regally, "I like action. Your head is a boring place for that."

"Well, what can you possibly do here?" Will asked, re-closing his eyes. Odd, he felt like having a nap.

Cat blew at her bangs, and studied the winding staircase, thinking. True, the darkness was frightening, but the stairs could lead anywhere…

"Let's go down the stairs!" she decided, vaulting to her feet.

Will mumbled in agreement, his mind blissfully blank…before her words registered and his eyes snapped open. "What!"

Cat grabbed at his sleeve, and pulled. "Come on! We won't go too far, just follow the stairs down, and we won't go off on any turns, we can't get lost!"

"What about the dark?!" He pointed out desperately, "It gets really, really dark down there. And there will be rats! And spiders!" He added the last for good measure.

Cat grinned at him. "Nice try, but I have a light. And your there, so I don't have to worry about the animals. I'm going."

Cat went down two steps before stopping and looking at Will. "Well? You coming, or not?"

Will glanced at the steps, then back at the wall where his mom would be appearing any minute. It was a hard choice. Wait for mom to get them, which was boring and wouldn't make her mad, or exploring the creepy dead castle which wasn't boring and would make mom mad.

But Cat looked insistent, and twins stuck together.

With a sigh, he got to his feet. "Fine, no turns, and we only go a little ways."

Cat punched the air with her fist, did a little jig on the step, and grabbed a hold of her brother's hand. With a tug, they began to traverse the stairs downward.

* * *

Harry ran down the hall, Hermione following him. He was leading, following his instincts to find his wife and kids. Hogwarts looked so different now. He frantically wondered where they could be.

"Look," Hermione pointed, coming to a halt in a beam of sunlight. The roof had fallen in at some point due to storms and weather. Hermione was too worried to even think to mark it down on her list of things to fix. "The dust…its small footprints." She looked up at Harry. "They came this way."

Harry nodded, glancing around for more clues. "The armor further down the hall is all over. Cat or Will probably knocked it over. This way."

They hadn't gone much further when the sound of desperate human calls came to their ears. "That's Ginny!" Harry bit out, quickening his pace after the voice.

They went around a sharp corner, and saw her, standing in front of a rather bedraggled looking tapestry.

"Ginny!" Harry called, hurrying up to her. Ginny turned, her eyes holding a scared look, and threw her arms around her husband. "HARRY! Oh, thank goodness Hermione found you!"

"I'm sorry," he said, enfolding her in his arms gently but protectively. "What's wrong? Is it the twins?" His hand went to her stomach, feeling for himself. The fear of every daddy-to-be was galloping in his head and squeezing at his insides.

"Yes, its…NO! Not them, their fine. It's Will and Cat!" Ginny gripped his shoulders, trying to hold in the hysteria she knew wouldn't help any of them. "They were running and fell into the tapestry. Then, it came alive and took them away!"

Hermione stepped closer to them, putting a hand on Ginny's back. "Away?" She questioned. She was scared too. They were her niece and nephew as well.

"I don't know how else to describe it!" Ginny bit out in frustration. "It wrapped itself around them and then they were gone!'

"Did you try anything?" Harry asked, intent.

Ginny pushed away from him, staring at the tapestry. "YES! I threw a spell at it to cease and let them go, but it threw it back at me in pieces! I've ripped, shredded and begged it, but nothing has worked!"

Harry moved to the tapestry, studying it. "I don't remember this one from Hogwarts. Do you, Hermione?"

Hermione moved to his side, sliding her wand back in her robes. "No, but I know who the tapestry depicts."

She took a step closer, dragging a finger down the knights face. "Sir Bartholomew of the Black Knights. Led some of England's most bloodthirsty campaigns in the Dark Ages. That is until some German forces killed him and his horde. They came back as ghosts. Some even say it is they who forced the Nazi out of England when they tried to land on the beach and invade the countryside. They made a movie about the experience, I believe…_Bedknobs and Broomsticks_."

"I don't care who the knight is. I want to know where my children are," Ginny said hurriedly.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to think. "Okay, wait." He reached into his robes and removed his wand. He pointed it at his hand, and said "_Vulgo_!" The air around his hand shimmered, then the Marauders Map appeared, rolled up and tied with some brown twine.

"Oh, you're a genius, Harry!" Hermione said, stepping closer. "Alright, where are we?"

Harry studied the blobs with their names on them, and the landmarks on the map. "It looks like we're standing in the hall not quite off from the Alchemy department, and..." His lips curled, "That Door is Snape's old Potions store room/closet." He pointed across from them, on the other wall of the hall. The door was covered in hanging dust mots.

"Okay, that should do it." Hermione reached into the folds of her robes and removed a rung of rusty keys.

Harry and Ginny watched her with twin expressions of oddity as she flipped threw them, and drew out a small blue book that was attached by a chain. "Aha! Now we're getting somewhere. Okay, page 51 is kitchens, oh… page 52 is closest, I suppose, to Snape's Closet. Okay, tapestry of fruit…tapestry of cats…Tapestry of Sir Bartholomew!"

She glanced up at them, noting their expressions and cleared her throat. "When they gave me the keys to this place, they gave me this book to things I would need to know, like spells to open secret rooms and passageways and such. It's like the Webster's Encyclopedia of Hogwarts, I suppose."

"What's the spell?" Harry asked quickly, knowing Hermione could start lecturing, especially when she was nervous.

Hermione snapped the book shut and let the keys slip into her pocket again. "Okay, well, according to this, I have to say it. Something about being the owner, again. First, let's remove this stupid tapestry. It's the wall we need. And Bartholomew can go to the dump for all I care, he's in such a mess."

"I perfectly agree," Ginny grumbled. Harry stepped forward and gripped the molting tapestry in both fists. With a jerk, the whole epticist came crashing down. Harry pulled it aside, while Hermione bent to run her hands over the wall.

She didn't feel any special levers, so she flattened her palm against the smooth stone and breathed out, clearing her mind except for the worry and desperation. Emotion could be important when working a spell.

"_Proloquor Quovis_…_Quovis Proloquor_," she said loudly, putting as much control and authority as she could into her command.

There was nothing for a moment, then the wall groaned, and seemed to dissolve into the air. "Quick!" Ginny hissed, pushing them towards the opening. Harry and Hermione followed her without question into the dark, hoping they'd see the twins.

"Will! Cat!" Harry yelled. His voice seemed to echo emptily back to him.

"Harry…" Hermione said quickly, gripping his arm. They all turned their heads in time to see the wall they had just come through reappear, shutting them into the darkness.

There was a moment of inactivity, where all you heard was the breathing of three individuals in the dark, before three "_Alorhomora_!" 's broke the silence.

Harry held up his wand to the wall, its glow revealing their entrapment. He looked questionably at Hermione. "Will the password work to get us out again?"

Hermione studied the wall, and nodded. "I'm pretty sure."

Harry chuckled without humor. "Great." He moved the wand so it lit the steps. "They must have went down there."

Ginny moved around them, keeping a hold of the wall. "Then let's go! Who knows what's down there, and they can be walking straight into it!" Images of her children being eaten by three-headed dogs or giant snakes were flashing all over in her frantic mind.

Harry quickly went to her side, taking a hold of her arm. "Ginny, don't forget the twins! I won't have you falling and hurting both them and yourself!"

"Then help me, but we have to get to them! Hermione?" Ginny asked, looking back. She gripped Harry's hand hard, but gave him a reassuring smile. Harry smiled gently back at her, before concentrating once again on the steps below.

"I'm right behind you," Hermione reassured, keeping one hand on the wall and the other firmly pointing her wand over their heads at anything that might come up out of the darkness at them as they searched for the kids.

They kept going, every once in a while calling out the twins names, but receiving no reply. Hermione began to imagine horrifying images of blood and monsters, which wasn't unheard of at Hogwarts.

Was she responsible for the destruction of Harry's children? She should never have let them come and walk here. She knew the castle was still unsafe, yet she…

Ginny's gasp of hope broke her worrying, as she and Harry tried to hurry down the last of the stairs. "Lights! I see lights! And the bottom!"

"WILL! CAT! Are you there?!" Harry called, helping his wife off the last step. They burst into the room, with Hermione right behind them.

Ginny searched desperately around the room, looking only for her kids.

Will and Cat were in the middle of the room, apparently unhurt as they looked up at her. "Mom! Dad! Aunt Hermione!" They both yelled, launching themselves across the room.

Ginny, a strangled sob etched in her throat, fell to her knees, taking both of them in her embrace. Harry joined her, pulling Cat out of her mother's arms so they could both assess their children.

"You alright?" He asked his daughter, holding a hand to her head. Cat nodded enthusiastically, still clutching the glowing stick to her. Harry shifted to look at Ginny and his son.

"He's alright," She nodded, pressing her face into Will's neck, letting the fear she had had bottled up inside of her be replaced by anger. "**Damn it**, don't ever scare me like that **again**!"

"Sorry, Mom," Will said dejectedly. He'd known they'd be in trouble.

"I thought I'd told you to stay with your mother!" Harry scolded, setting Cat on her feet. Cat looked down at her feet, shuffling them. Dad didn't often get mad at her. "It's not like we had much of a choice! It just grabbed us!"

"Cat..." Her father's stiff voice made her wince.

"Sorry, Mom," she finally said, "But look what we found…."

"We're going back home right now, young lady," Ginny said, setting Will down too. "And your going to have that nap, double time!" Ginny took a hold of both her children's dirty hands, and began to pull them towards the opening of the stairs.

"Wait," Hermione said quietly, putting a hand on her arm to stop her ascent. Ginny turned to retort, and saw the wide, wary eyes on Hermione. "Harry," Ginny began, looking to him, but he too was quiet, watching the room.

Ginny looked, and the children felt her fingers tighten on their hands.

The chamber was glowing with a green-eerie color. It was a fog, as Hermione could feel it on her skin. Cold, and liquidy. But it wasn't that which made her wary. It was the recognizable things floating in it.

The ghosts from their old years of Hogwarts.

Just floating there, suspended in the glow. Their heads were tilted either back or forward, some with their chins resting on their bunched beards. Their eyes were shut, in a silent sleep. Kind of like astronauts in space, Hermione thought.

"Hermione?" Harry inquired, "Did you know they were down here?"

Hermione's incredulous gaze swiveled to him. "Of course I didn't. In fact, I didn't know the ghosts were still in the school. They weren't mentioned in the sale transcript from the auction."

"You can buy ghosts?!" Cat asked, her voice filled with surprise and hope.

Hermione's lips quirked around the edges. "In a sense. They live on the property, and most the time they can't leave it. Since I didn't see the ghosts floating around at the auction, I figured they'd left or been excommunicated from the residence by the Ministry."

Harry made a sound in the back of his throat, and stepped around the room. "I don't think the Ministry does much excommunicating for wizard residences. The only excommunicating I've seen jurisdiction for is in the muggle's homes, in the countryside. They're the ones who don't like the ghosts."

He stopped in front of one ghost, studying her face, before he grinned. "Well, look who it is." He held his wand-light closer to the ghost's face, and motioned for Hermione to step closer. Cat and Will pulled their mother up closer, so they could see too. "Moaning Myrtle!"

Hermione gaped at Myrtle's sleeping face, the mouth open with spittle hanging suspended from her chin, and couldn't stop the grin. "Well, goodness…I never thought I'd see her out of her toilet!"

Cat and Will looked at each other and shrugged. It beat them why their parents were that excited. The ghost didn't look that interesting, and all they did was float there. But it was cool to walk through them. They'd been able to do it several times before their parents and aunt had showed up.

"But what are they all doing down here?" Ginny asked, swiveling her had to view the entire room. She counted about twenty altogether. Most were recognizable from their earlier school days, but some were new. Ah, but Hogwarts was vast, and no one had ever been through its entirety before. Not even Dumbledore knew all the schools secrets! There could have been a ghost or two in some basement or dungeon that was never seen…or hadn't wanted to have been seen.

Hermione began to move around the maze that was the ghosts, not touching them. "I don't know…perhaps when Hogwarts closed, they came down here and…fell asleep?" She finished lamely.

Harry couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face. "Like_ Sleeping Beauty_? Kiss the ghost, Hermione maybe it will wake up."

"A perfect time for you to be cracking jokes, Harry," Hermione said dryly, stopping in front of one ghost who caught her eye. Her features relaxed, and a pleasant expression settled over her face. "Oh, Nearly Headless Nick," she said quietly.

He hung like the others, head lying slightly on his left shoulder. Although, it was perfectly balanced so as not to fall off, as it had many times in the Halls of Hogwarts in the past. His mustache was still, not even twitching in his…sleep. His renaissance clothing was as proudly worn as before. His cravat might be giving him some ample comfort from the bony shoulder blade. That was, if he could feel that, what with being a ghost and all.

Hermione remembered how kind he was, positive, and sometimes uplifting in his advice. Although he had thrown horrible parties, by human standards. Perhaps it was the fact he had been their Gryffindor House ghost, one of its symbols, or perhaps it was the excitement from earlier, but his sleepy-suspension brought a sadness in her heart.

She knew why they slept. It was why she had needed to buy Hogwarts. Hogwarts was dead.

"It really is…" She said quietly out loud, thinking to herself.

Ginny cocked her head. "Hermione? What did you say?"

Hermione jerked her head in their direction, swallowing the feeling of tears in the back of her eyes. Why was that always happening? It annoyed the practical thinking side of her mind that she couldn't handle the simplest of emotional trials without tearing up.

"I know why they're asleep, guys," She said, addressing both of them. "I told you earlier that Hogwarts died when the School shut down, when Dumbledore died. It's essence left, its life force, and I think…the ghosts couldn't live without that, for some reason."

"So, perhaps they came here to hibernate in a sense, you think? Until the life came back?" Harry asked her, wondering himself. He stepped up behind Hermione, reaching out to touch Nearly Headless Nick. His fingers passed through the ghostly smoke, and he quickly pulled his hand back. Nearly Headless Nick didn't stir a lash. Harry let his hand fall to his side, thinking. His mind liked nothing better then an obstacle or mystery.

"I'd assume that," she said, turning back to Sir Nicholas, as he liked to be addressed back before he had slept, when he was…Hermione chuckled…_alive_.

On impulse, she reached out, and tenderly stroked his pale, dead cheek. Of coarse, her hand and fingers went right through him, but Hermione felt the cold, and she wondered if somewhere in his dead-sleepy state, he felt the warmth from her.

Then, Nearly Headless Nick snorted!

Hermione fell back against Harry with a gasp of alarm. He caught her by the shoulders, pulling her back. Ginny grabbed the kids hands and yanked them behind her, protectively. All gaped as a group as Sir Nick slowly stretched his neck, giving it a good shake, then opened his mouth slowly.

He rolled his jaw around, almost like coming out of a paralysis. A sharp, low pitched yawn erupted from his mouth, cutting off into a moan of relief as his back arched. As his spine bent, his famous head flopped over off its perch of bone, hanging by a single piece of skin. Hermione winced at the sound of his head hitting the shoulder he had just rested it on, wondering how it could sound so real-that scrape against bone that was smoke.

Flicking his laced cuffed hands, Sir Nick pushed his head up, focusing his eyes around the room, the look of an intelligent, alert person back in his pupils. His eyes passed over them once, before coming back and narrowing.

"I Say…Is that Harry Potter? Miss Granger? And, I dare say, Ms. Weasley?"

He floated closer. They stood still as he stopped in front of them, and felt relief when a grin split his face. "Well, I dare say it 'tis! Slightly older, but still my same old friends. Oh, it's been so long since we've seen old friends around here." His smile creased around the edges, and a sad sigh escaped his lips. "So Long."

He shook his head, as if to clear the sadness, and smiled. "So, somebody finally found us. We were beginning to wonder when we'd be awoken. Now, perchance who touched me?" He looked at everyone of them, even the two twins, as if expecting them to step forward.

Harry was the first to speak. "Hey, Nick. It's good to see you. Yes, uh, we found you. It was Hermione who touched you, right before you awoke."

Nick's head swiveled to Hermione, his smile slipping away to that of grave pride. Shocking Hermione further, he took a deep breath, puffing out his chest. With the smoothness given to smoke and ghosts, he bent in a bow, sweeping his hand beneath him.

"Miss Granger, I am honored. There is no one I would rather pick-no other candidate!-better then you. Oh, congratulations, Congratulations! Hogwarts is honored indeed, my Mistress!"

Hermione gaped at him a moment, then awkwardly pushed at her hair, which was beginning to frazzle in the damp conditions. "What are you talking about, Nick?"

He straightened, a look of humor and surprise on his face. "Why, don't you know? You're the new Headmistress of Hogwarts!!"

There was a surprised silence, then Ginny cleared her throat. "I know this question is being repeated a lot, but what? What's this about Hermione and Hogwarts?"

Sir Nick clasped his hands together, tilting his head with expert balance. "dear me, I see I have to explain…Hogwarts has always had an aura of power controlling it, and that power is controlled by the Headmaster or Headmistress, or person in charge of it. Dumbledore, for example, could close off his study to others, or other parts of the castle. Since we ghosts are tied to the castle, this aura controls us too. He could order Peeves to stop his mischief, while no one else could. They also have a sensitive feel for their castle, and if there is trouble in it."

"The Founding Witches and Wizards must have established this aura of power so they could control the construction of Hogwarts," Harry realized, sharing his revelation with the group. "With magic, it would certainly be easier and quicker if the rooms assembled themselves at will."

Sir Nick nodded. "This aura stayed partly in the castle after its making. The power has been passed down. And now it goes to Miss Granger, oh the surprises life brings! Now, I assume you have the Book of Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded, slipping it out of her pocket. Sir Nick smiled at the little book and keys. "I've been here many millennia's, my old friends. I've seen many Headmasters and Headmistress's in my lifetime. Headmaster Dumbledore was, without a doubt, the greatest."

He took a calming breath and smiled. "But you, Headmistress Granger, I believe will rival even the greatest expectations, am I right?"

Hermione smiled, almost shyly, and slipped the book and keys back into her pocket. "Perhaps, Sir Nick, perhaps."

Nick nodded, and turned to the rest of the room. "Well, are you going to wake them up?"

Hermione frowned, looking at his floating shape. "You mean I have to touch all of them? Can't they just wake up on their own?"

Sir Nick shook his head. "Their catatonic. They're asleep in the third realm, my Headmistress, and it's a very cold, drafty place! They need the promise of warmth before they stir up enough energy to leave it. And that warmth only comes from your aura and power as Headmistress."

When he continued to just stare at her expectantly, Hermione sighed, and rolled her sleeves up to her elbows. "Do I have to wake Peeves up?"

Sir Nick snorted in a very un-gentlemanly like manner, catching his head in the process. "I WISH not, but sensibilities demand I ask it. This is his home, after all."

Hermione shrugged, smiling a little. "Ah, I suppose your right. No one else could deal with him in their home, I imagine. Besides, he was good for a laugh!"

Harry grinned, putting an arm around Ginny. "Remember the day he saluted Fred and George? If nothing else, he deserves to exist for that."

Ginny grinned to, slipping her arm around Harry's waist. "I quite agree."

Hermione stepped up to a ghost, placing her hand on its shoulder, or in it actually. "Then I shall."

As she went about her new duty as Headmistress of Hogwarts, playing the part of ghostly alarm clock, Nearly Headless Nick glanced down at the curious twins near Harry and Ginny, and frowned.

"And who are you?"

* * *

Around midnight, Hermione shut the great gate, pushing her weight against it. With a clang it shut, but Hermione leaned against it a moment, looking up at the dark silhouette of the castle--her castle-- against the sky.

Now it was more then ever hers. Headmistress…She wasn't exactly sure if the title pleased or annoyed her. It wasn't what she had been aiming for, ultimately…Just a music school, to bring back the glory of Hogwarts. For Dumbledore really, and his image. For Harry, the triumph and battle that had won freedom.

She hadn't wanted a title, any glory really for herself, other than as a patron of the arts, or something. She had an empire of businesses to run. How could she do all that AND be a teacher AND be the Headmistress? Impossible, yet she was stuck with it. The power was unalterable, Sir Nick had explained. It was hers until she died…or sold the deed to another bidder.

But Hermione knew she couldn't do that. No, this endeavor had been burning in her heart and mind forever, its coils of promise scattering through her brain until it was a necessity to achieve it. Like all other homework assignments she had thrown herself into with a passion, Hogwarts was now her project.

And it was what she was meant to do. She was sure of it. So, she would be the Headmistress, if that was what it took. Hermione turned and began to follow Harry and Ginny, their children asleep in their arms. Nap time was long over.

But the work was just starting for Hermione, the new Headmistress of Hogwarts!

* * *

_Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I forgot about the rule about not answering reviews in chapters. Sorry, so I've replaced it. I promise the Hearing is coming next. Draco Malfoy vs. Hermione Granger! Oh, and Blaise Zambini is part of the jury!_


	5. Granger's Epic Battle: Part 1

Granger's Epic Battle: Part 1#

**Disclaimer-I do not own any of the Harry Potter plots or characters, I give full credit of their masterpiece to J.K. Rowling. In a few weeks the last book comes out, and I've had my own image of the final battle in my head for a long time. I need to get this out now before she does so that people know I did not copy it from her book in any way...although I'm pretty sure her scene will be completely different! I can't wait to read the last book and be depressed its over! So, enjoy what I have now...Thanks for reviewing!**

* * *

_At the gleaming gates of Hogwarts, all was quiet. The sun was high in the sky; the student's would be at the Great Hall, eating their lunches and talking in hushed tones about the previous night's escapades. Not a day went by now that someone you knew wasn't dead. In the classes, the empty desks were sadly depressing to those still alive._

_The entrance to Hogwarts seemed safe enough, at the moment. White-winged moths flitted about in the warm sunshine, and the grass drifted with the wind's currents. The gate creaked gently on its hinges, its iron and gold fixtures carrying a distinctive shine._

_All about was the peaceful silence of nature, and the trill of a thrush in the wood nearby signaled that there was nothing in the area that would disturb it._

_It was interrupted abruptly, and the moths dispersed in a hurry as a hum seemed to vibrate in the wind. _

_Two boys materialized in midair, their blood stained hands clutching a moldy book. They landed on the graveled road hard, their grunts of pain equal in intensity. The wood thrush sent up a clatter from her perch, eyeing the newcomers with a glare._

_The boys lay there a moment, in a sort of 4 o'clock position on the ground, breathing hard. Then, the boy with shaggy jet-black hair and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead lifted his head to look at the other...motionless...boy. _

"_Just what was __**that**__, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his voice dripping with shock and fatigue._

_The blond headed boy didn't look at Harry, but sneered at the sky instead. "Saving your life, Potter. Call it insanity, but I felt like being the hero, for once."_

_Malfoy turned his head, and caught sight of the moldy book he was still clutching, and released it with a sound of disgust. _

"_Up, Potter," He grumbled, sitting up in a hurry, "They won't be far behind us, and I don't want to be here when they figure out where we port-keyed to." Since Potter still had not let go of the asinine book, Malfoy grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. "Move it, Potter." _

_For once, Harry didn't even feel the urge to fight back. He complied. Harry knew the gate's password and uttered it swiftly. Together they pushed it open and entered the grounds of Hogwarts. They shut the gate quickly behind them. It would be one more barrier for the Death Eater's to go through, and more time for them._

"_We're officially blocked in now, Potter," Malfoy pointed out, as they skirted the road for the grass hill. It was a straighter path to the castle. "We're backed against the wall, no escape routes. We can't disapparate off this rock heap. For once, my Slytherin instincts have no choice between running and being noble."_

_Harry glanced sideways at Malfoy from the corner of his vision. "You didn't have to be noble back there, Malfoy. I was surrounded, helpless. I thought I was dead this time, you bastard, and you just leapt in and shoved that bloody book in my hand."_

_Malfoy chuckled in a way that was terribly ironic in its meaning. "For a second there I thought you were grateful, Potter. As for my intentions being noble, I suppose that's a stretch description, really. A port key charm isn't that difficult to call up on the spot." _

_His eyes flared momentarily with seething hatred. "He killed my parents, Potter. Right in front of me! A flash of green light, a cackling laugh…" He shrugged stiffly. "Let's just say I understand your sentiments for personal revenge somewhat better now, Scar-head."_

_Harry nodded, blocking his own memories of his parents being killed from his mind. They reached the castle, and together they entered the fountain garden. They ran under the arches, and now Harry took the lead, decisively. "We need to get the others. They'll be in the Great Hall about now."_

_Malfoy huffed a little, but followed. "Intend to fight __**them**__, Potter, with mere __**students**__?"_

'_No, I don't,' Harry thought sadly, but didn't answer, saving his energy for hurrying. _

_In his mind he saw Voldermort and his army of Death Eaters (and who **knew** what __**else**__) appearing at the gate's entry._

_Clearing a corner, he saw with relief the twin doors that marked the entry to the Great Hall. With Malfoy right behind him, he gripped the iron handles and pushed._

_They swung open swiftly, sending a draft of wind with their movement streaming into the room. The students sat at their house tables, eating and talking. The stream of air licked at people's hair, grabbing their attentions. As did the noise of the heavy doors banging against the stone wall, and they glanced to the doors. _

_Harry quickly looked to the Gryffindor table near the windows, scanning the faces until it landed on his friends. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger got to their feet, expressions of relief on their faces as they dropped their forks. _

_Harry took a deep breath and began walking to them when behind them in the window, he saw it happen. His face stiffened and his free hand reached for his wand. Ron and Hermione noticed all this, and turned to look behind them as well._

_Through the window, they watched the blast of flame and black smoke explode on the Gates of Hogwarts. The gate resisted for several seconds, its intricate webs of magic fighting a losing battle. Then, its edges frizzled and broke, and the gate hurdled into the air. The Hall was silent but for a few choked squeaks of shock. They watched the twisted heap of metal that was their protection bounce along the turf, until it landed with a splash in the Lake; the hall rang with the timeless feeling of dumbfounded un-belief._

_Voldermort was descending on Hogwarts._

_Harry was the first to snap out of it. "RON! HERMIONE!" He yelled._

_To their credit, they reacted quickly. They'd been fighting against the forces of evil for too long not to. Both got this steely look of determination and without hesitation, bolted over the table to join him. With a sense of purpose, Harry waited for them to reach him, than hurried out of the Hall once more._

* * *

_At the smoldering gates, a darkly cloaked figure, his wand drawn in pale bony fingers, stepped onto the grounds of Hogwarts for the first time in 30 some years. Beneath the hood, red eyes flared in the taste of triumph. Where was the great Dumbledore to stop him now? Hogwarts was his at last, and his reaping of it would be sweet. The incidents with the Chamber of Secrets would be nothing compared to the blood shed he would reap this time._

_Potter was cowering in there, as was that sniveling traitor, Malfoy. The Boy-Who-Lived had survived long enough on luck and from retreating to this school. Now was the prophecy's hour…__**His**__ hour was now. _

_Voldermort lifted his wand to the sky, and uttered the words to conjure his symbol. Once he reigned, every house would raise its glow above their roofs. The green skull with a snake running through its jaw…His Dark Mark…the image of it silhouetted by the proud Hogwarts behind, filled him with a hunger. His lips curled over his misshapen gums in a grin. The loss of all his soul-filled horcruxes, except for one, had driven his features to the edge of decay. His voice was a hiss to the Death Eaters waiting behind him._

"_Today we bring down the wizard's world with one little blow. How the children must be cowering now," He mused, getting some snickers from the wizards and witches behind him. "When we enter, they will undoubtedly be hiding in their dorms and room. Kill all the Houses, __**but** __**not**__** the Slytherins**. I will __**personally**__ decide who is to remain from them. And remember…__**Potter is mine**__!"_

_Nodding eagerly to his instructions, their minds eager to kill and ravage, the army of Voldermort began to ascend the hill. Behind them, the dozen or so trolls that had joined their side stomped their way past the gate, making grunting noises and half-heartedly making a swipe at the Death Eater's escorting them. The cloaked wizards pointed their wands at them, and so far the trolls hadn't doubled their efforts. They were promised children to eat soon; they cared not for these stringy wizards._

_Behind the trolls came all manners of nasty things Voldermort had picked up in his travels and his scheming. Vampires, Werewolves, imps, fire demons from the Middle Eastern Deserts…and following in the rear, the Dementors from Azkaban. They followed in last, to clean up the one's left alive after the destruction from the other creatures. Voldermort had sworn to them that they would feast on souls until their essences were bloated. _

_They were eager with anticipation. For years they had been forced to handle prisoners, the smell of their souls just inches from their nostrils, yet not allowed to suck it out of them. The few times the magicians had allowed a death was like a scrap of meat to a skeletal dog. The Dementors hated the wizards, __**hated**__ how they had turned them into cloaks of decay and filth! Now, Voldermort would allow them to feed at will, and their old powerful forms would be returned to them once again._

* * *

_Harry, Hermione, and Ron ran out of the arches, and came to a halt in the grass. Their wands were in their hands, ready to be used, as they watched the onslaught of Voldermort's Army moving toward them._

"_There's so many," Ron said quietly. Harry nodded, quickly scanning their opposition. _

_The green grass of the hill seemed to disappear under the blackness of the horde. Amidst it all, several tall, towering figures…ogres, Harry realized with a trickle of dread, and giants stood out. There were other things he recognized from his studies, and some he didn't know that Hermione undoubtedly would. When his eyes found the end of the horde, he visibly stiffened._

_Death Eaters, many of them…they would need a lot of __**Patronuse**__ spells to live through that!_

_Harry shook his head in protest to what he was seeing, and stepped back closer to his friends. "It's no use, guys," he said stiffly, "We can't beat them, three against…**THAT**."_

_Hermione made a sound of agreement in the back of her throat, calculating to herself how many spells, wands, and wizards would be needed to get out of THIS alive. "Yes, the odds are against us, I'm afraid."_

_Harry took a deep breath and said, "There's no need for you to do this. I want you to go back inside, get everyone else, and try to get out. Go down the Tunnel to Hogsmeade. It will be slow, but some will get out."_

_Ron and Hermione looked at each other, a smile spreading on their lips. Always the Hero in the end, they thought. "Forget it, Mate," Ron said smoothly, stepping up to his side, "We've gone through too much already together; do you really think we're backing down now?"_

"_Besides," Hermione said simply, putting a hand on his shoulder in support. He looked at her fully, and she smiled sadly, "We all know there's no option of backing out now, Harry. This is it. The time as come to fight."_

_Harry looked at her solemnly. "I might not win, you know." He looked back at his best friend, Ron. "I don't want either of you to die…" He sighed, loosening his grip on the wand and book he still held… "But I'd be honored to have you two stand by me."_

_Ron grinned, taking his hand away from Harry's shoulder. Despite Ron's outward show of calm, his hands were clammy with sweat, and his eyes were scared as he faced their almost certain death. Hermione too was having trouble keeping her breathing under control, and she kept twisting her wand in her hand, thinking of spells to keep the dread of dying away. She wondered how Harry could stand so still. Napoleon Bonaparte would have been impressed with his self control!_

_Harry had lived his whole life knowing he'd have to face this moment. They'd done everything to prepare for this time; it didn't seem quite enough at the moment._

_Despite their fear and certainty of doom, they'd stay if only because of Harry. He was their hope, and they trusted him, perhaps more than was fair. Through history armies had thrown themselves into the meat churners for their beloved leaders. It was their turn, and they were willing and ready. It would be the three of them to the end, and Harry was grateful he'd been given such friends as them._

_As Harry began to think of advancing towards his destiny, a commotion from behind them made him turn his head. He, Hermione and Ron turned as one, slightly confused at what they were seeing._

_The students were spilling out of Hogwarts as a group, gathering at the start of the grass. The older years led the youngers, their steps strong. Malfoy was in front of them all, stepping up to the three of them with a smirk on his face._

"_Hogwarts stands with you, Potter. Gryffindor jumped at the chance to be martyrs, obviously! Ravenclaw needed the facts, and Hufflepuff required some __**firm**__ convincing, but their ready to fight."_

_Harry didn't know what to say; he opened his mouth, but closed it wordlessly. A tall, black haired guy he recognized from his 6__th__ year…Blaise Zabini, he remembered, stepped forward to stand by Draco, a gallant smile (that seemed out of place in Harry's memory of him) on his face. _

"_Slytherin House stands with you too, Potter," he said, drawing his wand, "Providing you kill the bastard and win, of course."_

_Surprise flickered over Harry's face, and a sense of gratitude toward his previous enemies seeped into him, odd as that was. "Slytherin's putting their faith in me…My, your asking for luck," he said to them._

_Both Slytherins smirked, but didn't say anything more. The air around the group was filled with the pungent taste of final agreement between enemies. It didn't have a name specifically, this understanding between them. Slytherins and Gryffindors united…It just reaffirmed how crazy the world had become, and how nothing was as it was._

_The rules had just changed, as had their odds of death. He had seen to it that the students at Hogwarts had been taught defenses strongly during the past year. He knew the students staring at him now, their eyes filled with fear and hope, could take down a dementor each, and the older ones could handle more than that. Seeing their brave faces inspired him more than the book he held in his hands._

"_You should say something to them, Harry," Hermione told him firmly, motioning with her head to the throng of waiting students._

_Harry swallowed, nodding as he stepped closer to the throng. They were placing their lives in his hands today; he wished he could give them something other than words._

"_**I wasn't expecting you to stand with me today**__!" He said, raising his voice so it was audible to every blinking first year in the back. _

"_**Then again, I never expected a lot of things**__**And that's the problem of it, isn't it? We never expect for evil to catch us unawares, or to look for its crawling threat until it's upon us." **_

_Harry motioned with his wand hand towards the black horde coming for them. "__**For nearly a decade we've danced around Voldermort and his threat. He called for our blood, and we denied him with small attacks and words. Many times the strong died so the many of us could live yet another year safely."**_

_Harry's countenance became hardened. "__**Dumbledore was one of your strong. He died, and you remained. This school welcomed you again in the fall to teach and house you away from the threat of Voldermort. **_

_**But its safety has run its course. The threat comes! And once again, I expected to be another one of the strong. I was willing and resigned to my sacrifice, and it would have been the last to be made…and your safety WOULD NOT have come in payment. **_

_**Voldermort expects you to do as we've always done. He wants to watch you run and slip on the trail of my blood, BUT YOU'VE DENIED HIM EVEN THAT VICTORY!**_

_**YOU'VE CHOSEN TO STAND, TO SMEAR YOUR WOUNDS WITH THE ONES WE WILL GIVE HIM! YOU'VE DECIDED NOT TO HIDE LIKE SCARED VICTIMS, BUT TO BE THE STRONG, TO REPAY HIM FOR EVERYTHING HE'S DARED TO TAKE FROM US." **_

_Harry lifted his arms to encompass the castle behind them. "__**WE CAME TO THIS CASTLE AS CHILDREN, AND HAVE GROWN HERE INTO WIZARDS. VOLDERMORT WILL NOT FIND CHILDREN, BUT WANDS POINTED AT HIM IN DEFIANCE! AS HOUSES WE STAND, AS FRIENDS WE STAND, AND AS HEROES WE STAND."**_

_Harry paused__his gaze scanning over the people listening to him. "__**You've feared this man all your lives, this He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! And why is that? Who is this wizard really?"**_

_Harry lifted the wrinkled book he still held up, so all could see it. Whispers of questions and confusion rippled through the throng, but they watched intently as Harry slipped his wand in his sleeve, and gripped each cover in a fist. The pages fluttered a moment in the breeze, before Harry tightened his fists and ripped the book in half._

_Draco Malfoy frowned, then stiffened as a gold locket seemed to materialize and float where the book had ripped. Shocked gasps issued from the group as Harry lifted the locket high, and eyes gleamed with the triumph in his voice. The locket Dumbledore had given his life for. That one had been a fake, but Harry now held the real last horucrux in his hand._

"_**THIS IS ALL THAT IS LEFT OF VOLDERMORT'S IMMORTALITY! HIS SPLIT SOUL HAS BEEN RAVAGED BY WIZARDS WHO KNEW OF HIS WEAKNESS…POWER! WHAT HAS IT GAINED HIM, WHEN ALL HIS GLORY RESTS IN MY GRASP!"**_

_Before anyone could even move or gasp, Harry had re-adorned his wand and pointed it at the locket. "Thank you, Snape…" He said quietly, before a blast of black energy shot from his wand and into the locket._

_There was an explosion without sound, and the sky darkened as if the sun had blinked out. The locket heated, its metal glowing with intense energy, before it broke into fragments as thin as sand. Harry took a deep breath, stepping over the fragments as a high emotion of elation overtook him. _

'_I've done it, Dumbledore!' He thought with finality. 'I fulfilled what you left me to do. The last Horcruxe is destroyed.' _

_Harry raised his arms, grabbing the attention of the dismayed and shocked students. Even Hermione and Ron were open mouthed._

"_**VOLDERMORTS IMMORTALITY IS GONE! YOU'VE WITNESSED ITS DEMISE YOURSELVES. YOU DIDN'T READ ABOUT IT FROM A CONSPICUOUS PAPER, YOU LIVED IT!**_

_**NOW YOU KNOW THAT WHEN WE NOW MEET, WE MEET AS EQUALS! WIZARDS WITH WEAPONS OF MAGIC, FIGHTING FOR WHAT FUTURE WE REQUIRE.**_

_**I'LL STAND BY YOU FOR YOUR FUTURE, IF YOU'LL STAND BY ME!" **__Harry finished, lowering his arms to his sides._

"_WE'LL STAND BY YOU HARRY POTTER!" Several people shouted, many of them senior Gryffindors who Harry knew and respected. After them, a slow murmur of agreement began, at first hesitant, then grew in volume to a yell of chanting students, united together with a glint of violence in their eyes. They were now ready, fully, to fight._

"_For a pathetic speech, that certainly filled its purpose," Malfoy mumbled, himself a little moved by the whole scene. _

_Harry looked more like a general than ever, the shouts of his army filling him with a righteous sense of power. He looked at his two friends, who had been with him from the beginning to the end, met their eyes in a last shared look, and nodded._

_He turned around, and broke into a run. A moment later, his two best friends were in flight behind him, their robes billowing behind them as they jumped down from a rock outcropping, before their feet hit the grass again._

_As one body, the students of Hogwarts, no longer separated by House Rivalry or bickerment of age, but a unified army…Dumbledore's Army…rushed forward, inspired by their leader, and the call of battle that is lodged within the genes of man awakening in them. _

_Harry could feel their support behind him, the air from their many breaths on his neck, and the shouts filling his ears. When history remembered the foolish heroes and their short moments of glory, theirs would be one of them, as one of the greatest and most worthy. And if he could make their end glorious, by Sirius HE WOULD DO IT!_

_From the forest, safely in its dark recesses, the centaurs watched the armies spill across the grass. The brush hid their solemn eyes and expressions of wonder and regret as they watched history and prophecy unfold at last. For finally, they watched man, and not the stars, for their own future. _

_When good and evil first were formed side by side, it was with the knowledge that the two forces would be doomed to clash in opposition. When the two armies met at last on the grounds of Hogwarts, before a spell was uttered, the acknowledgment of their enemy was established, by the rules of that good and evil._

_Harry Potter and Voldermort ran toward each other, their gazes locked in hatred, not seeing the spells beginning to fly past them, or their comrades cry out and fall in pain. _

_When they were upon each other, Harry lifted his wand and uttered one of the curses he had mastered for this moment, read from the Libraries of Egypt and Ptolemy. If needed, he would use every last one until he was dead. _

_For a moment, before his crisp magenta spell of energy had left his wand, and before Voldermorts green flash of death could be uttered, Harry saw something flash across the face of his adversary…_

…_Doubt._

* * *

Hermione jumped, as a loud sound jolted her from her memory. For a deaf moment, she had thought it was a spell hitting her, when her vision settled on the young man in official robes bending over her, his hand waving in front of her face.

"Excuse me, Ms. Granger? They're ready for you now."

Fixing her eyes on him, she recognized him as one of the Ministry Official's secretaries. He held a file of papers under his left arm, and his wizards hat was slightly askew on his head. He was the type of person you expected was teased in school for being the teacher's pet, who would undoubtedly go as far as he aspired to prove his gawky-ness uncalled for. He'd still be a weird one, only he'd have power and more pay.

Hermione could understand him somewhat. After all, she'd been…screw that, WAS a know-it-all, and she was filthy rich now with the power to pull it off.

However, she'd proved her worth in ways this young man would never have to achieve, thank goodness. She'd just been reliving one of those moments, she thought with a shudder, getting to her feet. It was that shudder that made her square her shoulders and glare at the poor secretary.

"Did you just snap your fingers in front of my face?" she asked smoothly, getting to her feet. Something in her voice made the secretary blink and slink back some.

"Yes…_I'm sorry_," He added quickly when her eyes narrowed more, "But you were so deep in thought, just repeating your name wasn't getting your attention."

Hermione held him under her gaze until he squirmed, and then began to stride down the hall. He followed in her wake, muttering under his breath about arrogant bosses and such.

Hermione found it in her to smile, even though her heart was racing. She always felt like this before a test, or a performance. In her business life, she often felt like this before a business meeting, all jumpy, and sure of her failure. She didn't know it, but at the moment, her hand was twisting at the insides of her dark black robes.

To anyone looking at her, she seemed steeled for battle, an invincible force of will. In all actuality, the adrendeline rush she felt coursing through her did give her a sense of power as she approached the iron door of Court Room Ten.

The hall of the Department of Mysteries was as depressing as ever. Figures Malfoy would arrange to go against her here, where he knew she'd had reason to visit in the past. But if he thought it would intimidate her into submission, he was wrong! Hermione squared her shoulders, and angled her head imperiously as she pushed through the doors.

The first thing that reached her senses was the sharp sting of light on her eyes from the magically powered torches on the walls. Second was the cacophony of talking voices and murmurs that dimmed to whispers as she entered. Then she contemplated the faces, many faces, of wizard officials and reporters. She raised an eyebrow at the flash of bulbs from cameras and the scratching quills on parchment. Apparently her life wasn't just Legal business, it was Politic Fodder as well.

Now that she faced the opposition, Hermione felt herself relax, and the adrendeline died to a steady drip in her veins. She had control now, and she was ready for this. Her still hand retracted from her robe pocket to hang at her side.

As she walked past the first row of benches, she met the gaze of each wizard who sat there. Some had glass eyes, or a patch from previous year's duels…No matter what they had in their sockets, though, she met them unflinchingly. Some had to look away, many blinked, and some were intrigued. Confidence was key, Hermione knew, in creating an impression of power. These benches of wizards would be her jury, and she hoped that by the end of the Hearing, she wouldn't have to rely on other than her ability of persuasion to get them to agree with her. Malfoy would do his best to make sure that didn't happen.

Hermione finally reached the center of the room, where the high officials seating wrapped around, as if simulating a gladiators arena, with the High Official at its epicenter.

The old holding chair for criminals, that once rested in the center of that circle, with its moving chains, had been removed to make way for a more decent wooden table. Hermione went to the seat and, sitting straight, folded her hands to rest neatly in her lap.

She snuck a sly glance at the seating above her, and caught the Minister of Magic's gaze. She and Harry nodded at each other, understanding that their friendship counted for nothing in this room. At work, Harry represented the entire wizarding world, and he couldn't play favorites. If Hermione was to win this, she'd have to achieve it herself.

Fair enough, she thought, blowing out a breath of air between her lips. As she did, she looked to the left and up, to the top row. She wondered why she had looked that way, such a spur of the moment thing, and saw the reason.

At the top row, somewhat off from the reporters, Blaise Zabini reclined in his seat against the wooden wall behind him. Arms crossed, he looked like a non-chalant viewer, bored with his surroundings, and hoping someone would knock over some papers just so he could see some action. In deed, no one seemed to be paying any attention to him. At first glance, he did have a demeanor one just glances over.

Perhaps it WAS all that black hair, Hermione found herself thinking again, it did sort of hide his face. He really did need a trim soon, if he wanted any sort of attention at all. As she contemplated this, his head tilted up, and that gorgeous hair of his fell away from his eyes over his cheekbones. Hermione felt her breath catch as he caught her looking at him, and a smirk fell across his features. Never mind the trim, that look was enough to grab a Veela's admiration…alright, perhaps that was a stretch…or not really, anyway.

How could anyone not see that face for seven years? She wondered increduously to herself, before even this thought was interrupted by Harry banging the court hammer against the round block of wood.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Harry addressed the room fully, "Please quiet down, court is now in session."

Harry looked down at Hermione's desk, then glanced at the other vacant desk on her right. "It would appear the Accused Party of Ms. Granger is present, and on time…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and crossed her long, rather slim legs. "Aren't I always?"

Several wizards who knew her personally or had done business with her chuckled. Hermione grinned in her head, pleased to hear the reporters scratching that little tidbit of information in their notebooks. It would be in the papers headlines that she'd won the Hearing from the start…Now if she could only **keep** the headlines that way!

"However, the Accuser, Mr. Malfoy, seems to be un-present," Harry noted, his tone conveying that he wasn't that surprised at the fact. Hermione thanked him in her mind for helping her in the only way he could; by establishing the mood of the court in her favor and not Malfoy's.

At this moment, the door swung open in a hurried fashion, and the flushed secretary from before came in behind it. "Mr. Malfoy, sirs!" He bit out between a breath, holding the door open for the said late wizard.

Draco Malfoy entered with a flurry of dark robes etched in green, and a look of disdain on his unmarred, travel blown features. Hermione heard several female reporters sigh and start to snap dozens of photographs. She doubted many of those shots would actually reach the papers; they'd end up in their wallets more than likely.

The jury murmured in disapproval as Malfoy walked past, some muttering loudly about the sins of tardiness.

Blaise himself saw the entrance of Draco Malfoy as a classic move. Slytherins loved the idea of making a late-fashionable entrance. It was strategic in the sense it took the attention from the first early party and centered it on you instead. From here, Malfoy only needed to win back the favor of the audience. Now, Draco _could_ accomplish this, Blaise thought, if he could keep his cool in front of Granger.

Somehow he doubted anyone could keep their cool in front of Hermione Granger, he thought with a smile, including himself. He was anxious to see if Granger could keep hers as well under Malfoy's pressure. If the atmosphere between the two from the auction was any evidence, that would be quite difficult.

"You are errantly late, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, stating the obvious from above with a hint of irritation in its ring.

Malfoy strode to his table, pulling off his leather gloves in a lord-like manner before slapping them down on the table. "Forgive my tardiness, _Lord Minister_," He said with a slight emphasis on the stressed title, "I was seeing to some last minute business arrangements. I hope I didn't keep the assembly waiting too long."

Harry watched him a moment, then said, "Not long at all. Would you both stand, the Accuser and the Accused, and we'll begin."

Hermione got to her feet elegantly, resting her fingertips on the wooden surface. Its smooth surface felt comforting as she slid them across its escape.

"Hearing of the 20th of June. Party: Draco Malfoy vs.Hermione Granger…

…Mr. Malfoy," Harry addressed him, "You are here accusing Ms. Granger of the following offenses: For planning to break Degree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and International Statutes of Secrecy regarding Wizards and Muggles."

Harry paused, reading over these lines again on his papers. A quizzical smile overtook his features. "These sound horribly familiar to me. Would you care to state the specifics of your accusations?" Harry motioned to the official sitting next to him with the hour glass. The official turned it over, and Malfoy's allotted time to speak began to trickle down.

Malfoy smiled. "I would most definitely. As the jury undoubtedly knows, Ms.Granger recently purchased the Old School of Hogwarts." Malfoy let one hand rest on the table as he turned slightly, as if sharing something intimate only with the jury.

"The School was a testimony to our Glorious History of Wizard Rule. Many of us in this room came from its influence personally. May I point out that the great Albus Dumbledore headed that very establishment, following under the Decrees made by this Ministry to the letter, and with…"

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry interrupted, his gaze hard, "I would prefer it if you kept the memory of Albus Dumbledore out of this Hearing. I find this form of argumentation irrelevant to the case. Continue without it." His tone held no room for protest.

Malfoy inclined his head as if respectful of Harry's request. His eyes told different, but only Hermione, Harry, and Blaise could see that for themselves.

"Of course, forgive my slip. Then let me introduce my point a different way…

This School has been run for centuries by respected Headmasters and Headmistresses who followed the letter of the law when it came to the operation and management of the School. With this line of discipline and orderly structure, the School has kept this established Ministry of Magic alive. By keeping the laws set forth at our beginnings, the School has set each of you, wizards and witches, with the foresight and wisdom to see that the laws that hold our world together will not be broken."

Malfoy paused, letting his praise sink into and flatter the assembly, before his tone hardened to steel. "However, there is one _Witch _the School let out that has sought to undo all our years of work, and the very laws for which this Ministry Government operate on now!"

Malfoy turned again, looking directly at Hermione for the first time since he'd entered the room. His eyes were disdainful as he opened his mouth once more. "What's more, she connives to corrupt the very honor of the School for which we have all called our home. Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, our nation of magic's pride and symbol!"

Malfoy lifted his hand and pointed his outstretched finger at Hermione as if ordering an army to charge her down. "**Ms. Hermione Granger is this **_**Witch **_**who has sought to undo your very authority, Council**!"

Hermione stood still as the jury and reporters began to murmur and figit at his words. Some began to look at Hermione as if already forgetting her goodness, and instead began to question her image. Anger boiled in her, but she held it, keeping a calm exterior as Malfoy used his lawful allotted time to bruise her impeccable image.

"For years, Ms. Granger has been working outside the Wizarding World. In all aspects, upon her graduation and the closing of Hogwarts, she immersed herself in the World of Muggles, choosing, unlike this council, to distance herself from the Rule of the Ministry and Wizard Kind. She has displayed a negative respect to our World. Yet even in this, she has kept her wand, and uses it at her whim! Not only has Ms. Granger proven by her actions that she is ungrateful and disrespectful of Magic and ourselves, she is a **Hypocrite**!"

Now the murmurs were not so quiet, and Hermione could feel the eyes of indignant jury members and reporters on her skin.

"For those in this room who have known Ms. Granger personally, and are no doubt shocked at the words I am saying, **do not** question the evidence I lay before you now!

Ms. Granger may have pulled the wool over our eyes in the past and played the innocent, until not quite 2 weeks ago she made her move. She snatched up our beloved School, our national landmark, and took it for her own possession. Instantly I became suspicious of her intent, and I delved into that mystery behind the purchase as is my bound duty to this Council to do. The last time a wizard came in the hopes of taking the School resulted in its closing, and yet this _Witches _intent for it was obviously worse upon my discovery!"

Malfoy removed a file from his robes, and let it fall with a sharp thud on the table. "With research, I learned that this Witch seeks to not open a school for teaching magic, but to turn the old monument into a music school." Malfoy made a sound of conservative disgust. "Imagine the gall of it, changing the very honor of Hogwarts! But as bad as that is, I've learned that she plans to take it a step further…to teach _**muggles **_there, as well as wizards!"

Hermione resisted to roll her eyes as the room echoed with silence, then gasps. More then one official raised an eyebrow. Malfoy opened the file, pulled out the papers it contained, and stepped over to the jury. "There is ample proof of her foul plans. Business meetings…"

Malfoy began systematically to walk down the front of the jury, slapping papers down in front of them as he went. "Documented conversations with associates, both muggle and wizards…Conversion of several billion dollars into Gringotts Bank only weeks before the auction…Contacts with musicians, and talks of hiring them as teachers…Public interviews and advertisements for her music school are already being printed in way of alerting **muggle** knowledge of Hogwarts School."

Malfoy placed another full file of the same papers in front of Harry, then moved back to his desk, leaning over it darkly as he surveyed the jury leafing through the papers he had placed in front of them. They were genuine; Malfoy wouldn't dare fabricate any information in this case.

"From this it is clear that Ms. Granger has already planned to break the International Statutes of Secrecy regarding Wizards and Muggles. She has made plans and has set them in motion to introduce wizards and magic to muggles in her school setting, Hogwarts! She planned to break the secrecy that separates our world from that of the muggles, and by doing so, risks exposure that we've tried to keep secret for hundreds of years.

I have brought this issue to the courts and to your public eye in the hopes you will stop this Witch's plans, and to deal with her according to the statutes of our laws, and what she has earned by her actions!"

Malfoy ended a full second before the hour glass, situating his time allotted to speak, emptied. Malfoy gave a respectful nod of his head to the jury, before taking his seat. He smirked with pleasure as the jury room filled with murmurs of anger and protests against Granger.

The official next to Harry grasped the hour glass and looked to him. Harry cleared his throat, handing the folder Malfoy had given him down to a court official on the floor. The court official respectfully took it and set it in front of Hermione, who now stood. She thanked the official, who then took his place again in the shadows until he might be needed.

"Ms. Granger," Harry said, addressing her in the same aloof tone he had used on Malfoy, "You have been charged with planning to break laws reproaching the contact of muggles and wizards. Mr. Malfoy has shown us his proof confirming this is true.

Do you deny his claims or the proof he had set before us?"

The official turned the hour glass over, beginning Hermione's turn for appeal. The whispers died for a moment as everyone waited for her answer. Hermione's face was dead set, her eyes calm and unafraid. Her hands rested on either side of the closed folder resting before her, but she did not open it to glance at the papers. Some whispered at this, wondering if it proved she'd deny the accusations, or if she was guilty over the contents.

She knew she didn't need to look at Malfoy's artillery; she was confident in he own powers. Finally, her head tilted slightly to one side as she opened her lips.

"Why would I deny his claims? Mr. Malfoy speaks entirely the truth."

* * *

**vanilfrappe-I'm sorry it took me so long, but I felt washed out every time I began to write. It was a painstaking ordeal every time my fingers hit the keys, so i am grateful to my reviewers who sent me alarms and kicked my butt into working. I'm not done with the court scene, but its already 15 pages, and you're all calling for my blood! Sorry, I hate cliff hangers, but you all deserve something to chew on until my fingers start flying...I think I need cookie dough or something...**


	6. Granger's Epic Battle: Part II

bnthridiot: Apologies to all those who have been silently massacring me privately in your thoughts for not writing for so long. I hate myself, if its any help. Anyways, I'm not sure how good this chapter really is compared to my others. I was kind of cranking it out of myself. Again, all Harry Potter references are a tribute to J. K. Rowling.

* * *

_"Ms. Granger," Harry said, addressing her in the same aloof tone he had used on Malfoy, "You have been charged with planning to break laws reproaching the contact of muggles and wizards. Mr. Malfoy has shown us his proof confirming this is true._

_Do you deny his claims or the proof he had set before us?"_

_The official turned the hour glass over, beginning Hermione's turn for appeal. The whispers died for a moment as everyone waited for her answer. Hermione's face was dead set, her eyes calm and unafraid. Her hands rested on either side of the closed folder resting before her, but she did not open it to glance at the papers. Some whispered at this, wondering if it proved she'd deny the accusations, or if she was guilty over the contents._

_She knew she didn't need to look at Malfoy's artillery; she was confident in her own powers. Finally, her head tilted slightly to one side as she opened her lips._

_"Why would I deny his claims? Mr. Malfoy speaks entirely the truth."_

* * *

The court room went dead silent, as if someone had sucked all the air out of it. Everyone had expected her to exclaim her innocence, or perhaps even to fluster and cry. Hermione was not a woman of such degree. She was a witch with a backbone, not just a wand. She also had an incriminating mind, but today was not the day the courts were going to call her on it, though. 

Hermione smiled in greeting at her jury members as she stepped around her table to take the center floor. Her gait was calm and controlled. The candlelight glinted off her eyes and face, making her appear warm and approachable. Her bearing lacked any of the cold aloofness that haunted Malfoy's demeanor. He had painted her in a damnable image; Hermione presented its opposite to them. She needed to convince them her image was the real one.

"I do not deny his proof he has laid before you, honorable Council. If anything, I am thankful he brought it, and that he has presented it to you for me. You see, I have no reason to lie about my intentions when I can tell you the truth for the better. I advocate truth with my very spirit, Council, despite what Mr. Malfoy would have you believe."

She motioned toward the folders in front of them. "When I bought the crumbling castle of Hogwarts, it was with a vision. That vision was of _**our**_ future, and when I say '_**our**'_ I mean the entire next generation of witches and wizards."

Hermione took a deep breath and continued. "In the ruins of the Dark Lord's War, our school systems lay in ruins. Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and Hogwarts were stripped of their headmasters, staff, students, and honor. None of these schools are up and running today, Council, **NONE**."

Several heads nodded in the stands, and there were murmurs of sad agreement.

"For me, this is a sad prospect, that our children will not have the joy of looking forward to the beginning of the school year, to learning new magic. I remember my own school years fondly. Mr. Malfoy himself no doubt remembers his experiences of school."

She grinned to herself, flexing her right hand in fond remembrance of punching the snob in the face.

"The Ministry has opened a School in this very building, as I well know. I helped fund and organize the expedition, among other endeavors. I do not-" Hermione's voice hardened, as did her stare. "-appreciate being accused of hiding from the Wizarding World, by _**any**_ of my peers." She shot a withering glare at Malfoy, before looking back at her audience.

Hermione stepped close to the jury stand, smiled invitingly at the old wizard in green robes sitting to wards the front. "Wizard Lamond, you work in one of the front offices of the building, do you not?"

He cleared his throat, a small smile on his lips. "Aye."

"How many days a week do you see me walk in, and how often do I ask you for the latest developments in domestic policies?"

He blinked a few times in thought. "Well, I'd say you come in about 5 times a week, at the least. Every time you come in, you greet me and ask for the latest news, as it were, Ms. Granger."

Hermione nodded her thanks, and let her gaze sweet across their faces. Her voice was sarcastic and teasing. "5 times a week sure sounds like I'm distancing myself from you, doesn't it Council? Perhaps if I came in every 5 minutes I may be counted as a _**tourist**_ of the wizarding world."

There were a few chuckles concealed behind coughs in her audience.

Hermione stepped back from the jury stand and stepped back to the center of the shining marble floor. "I deeply care about what goes on in our Wizarding world, honorable wizards and witches. Which is _**why**_ I care about the magical education of our children. I want them to have the educational upbringing that inspired and strengthened _**us **_to be the leaders we are today. I place my trust in you to see that justice is served, Council, because we all came from that upbringing. My experiences, your experiences, growing up has made you the strong government that you are.

I was appointed Head Girl for several years while I was growing up at Hogwarts. I care very deeply about the honor of our heritage and the school that supported me. Council, Mr. Malfoy falsely accuses me of trying to undermine the honor of our school. He seems to argue that by buying it with an intention of putting it to use that I am planning something sinister."

Hermione made a sound of utter amazement at the gall of the idea. "The Hogwarts that is a representation of our honor and heritage is nothing more then a pile of _**rubble**_ at this very moment! What proud symbol of our government is that? Does Mr. Malfoy contend that our government is proudly represented as _**ruins**_?"

Hermione shook her head, lifting her arms to encompass the room. "The Council before me is no ruin! It is the epitome of strength! Yet Mr. Malfoy would have you believe that I, one lonely witch, could bring you down by buying a rundown castle. To you, it falls no shorter then insult!

Would you like to know what I plan to do with the pile of rubble, council? I intend to restore its honor. I intend to reopen Hogwarts School, but not-"

She raised her palm up in warning. "-Not as it was before. The glory of our past cannot be replicated. The future is where our efforts must be trained. And the education this council has provided is more than adequate. If anything, the new _**Ministry School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_ in this building is a pillar of strength. Our world in the future is finally, after so many years, back on the solid ground that we once occupied in 2000. And it is this council, and the people of our wizarding society, who have made it so."

The witches and wizards in the council voiced their approval, some banging their canes or fists on the wooden railings. Hermione let them congratulate themselves a moment longer, then raised her hand for silence once again. She was granted it instantly.

Her pleasant smile became grave as she spoke next. "Yet it would be foolish to think we have won, Ministry. We may have vanquished the Dark Lord's power…but we have, as of yet, failed to solve the curse that started the whole war. Now that we are capable of attending to that curse, we _**must**_! And what is this curse?"

Hermione turned on her feet, glancing over every face in the crowd. "When I look at your faces, I see friends...and enemies. I also see half bloods…"-She looked directly at Blaise Zabini, who stared right back. "…Purebloods, and…"-She met a few of the reporters stares- "…even those who some consider _**Mudbloods**_."

There were several coughs at the word. The term _**Mudblood** _had gratefully grown more taboo in the last year or so.

"Years ago, the very fact that a witch or wizard had muggle parents would cause others to look down on them, to shun them, and to degrade their existence merely because of the blood flowing through their veins. No matter their magical talent or their intellect or their virtue, they were less then nothing.

Out of this hatred for what some would deem 'impurity,' a dark wizard rose up and decided to take this hatred to a new extreme. _**Lord Voldermort**_." Hermione took a breath, effectively. "I do not have to tell you what happened next, because you all saw for yourselves. Thankfully, he failed.

I can see that the wizarding world has progressed on this matter. I no longer see the deep and inevitable prejudice against blood lines as I once did. The very fact that this council is able to sit peacefully together, a mix of blood yourselves, and listen to me, a _**mudblood**_, proves this. However," Hermione frowned, "No one here will deny they don't still seem some…" -Hermione glanced meaningfully at Malfoy from the corner of her eye- "…_**some**_, of the blood hatred living on today.

But this Council of the Ministry has worked to end this in our society. Recent laws passed against discrimination on account of one's blood has been a major leap of progress. Yet I'm afraid it will not be enough." Her tone sounded like a doctor pronouncing a loved one's life hopeless. "The prejudice will never _**end**_, the threat of another Dark Lord in our future will never end, unless we attack this curse at its source."

Hermione moved across the room fluidly to her desk, so that she was in the center of the room. "That source is not _**within**_ our society, Council." Her tone hardened, as did her stare. "Its O_**utside**_ it!"

"I speak of _**Muggles**_! They surround us daily beyond the confines of our Diagon Walls, our spelled communities and our homes. We use magic to keep them out, to protect ourselves and to keep our magic a secrecy, no?"

Hermione's lips twitched in a slow smile. "In all our haste to protect ourselves, we've stepped in front of our own spells, council! We've gone beyond secrecy, and have cut ourselves off from the world we came from. In my eyes, we've locked the chains on our own cages."

Hermione rested on her palms against the table. "Mudbloods are proof that magic **_can_** come from an un-magical source. They are proof that Muggles are chained to our world, if only in blood. So why does our society seem to look over them? To pretend they do not exist? We're ignoring them, in every way possible.

And this ignorance has led to our hating them, council. Every one of us has a prejudice against them, simply because _**they**_ do not know magic exists, or that _**we **_exist. Our society has taught us this prejudice, our parents have taught us this, and our own culture has set it in stone.

The Dark Lord took advantage of this. Muggles were scarred, and mudbloods were lumped with them. Are they still lumped together? _**YES**_! They _**are**_!

Many of you must be saying 'no' to this in your heads right now, denying that your hearts could carry such a stone against another. Bless you for trying, but the damage has been done to our thinking. It's impossible even now for you to imagine yourself on the same level as a muggle. Non-Magic folk is all they will ever be to you.

Our own children are being taught this prejudice by us. I've heard children with my own ears and seen children with my own eyes defame a person on the street, simply because they are a muggle."

Hermione looked around the room, into the uncomfortable faces of the people who her message had reached. The truth was there, and many thankfully were seeing it.

"This prejudice, this belief, is a weakness. Our greatness, our progress in the future will not continue if this sad fact remains. THIS is the curse we must rectify immediately if our children's future is to be free of it."

Hermione emphasized her words against the desktop. "I will not allow my nieces and nephews to grow up with this same curse upon their heads! I am confident this Council does not either! The next generation must be freed from this mindless prejudice."

Her hand became a fist on the wood surface. "The next generation must be taught to see a human being for just that, an equal. Their talents, their feelings, and their attitudes must count in their eyes, not their blood lines or the length of their wands. Mere rods of wood are not the glory we possess as people, Council; our glory is the legacy we leave behind in our world."

Hermione pushed off from the desk and stepped back onto the main floor. "To end this listless weakness, we need an outlet. A clean ground to train our children to leave this hatred behind. We need to bring them to a place where they can resolve their differences with muggles _**face-to-face**_!"

Hermione put her hands together, and represented a posture of entreaty. "Council, I recommend a place where both sides of the prejudice can live together, to learn to coexist and to see each other as equals."

As presumed, some began to cry out or to make sounds of discontent over her words.

Hermione raised her arms high and raised her voice to stop them. "**LISTEN** to what I say, Council, for I am delivering a _**warning**_! The Dark Lord grumbled just as loud against equality, and _**how many died! Hmm? How many died to keep this prejudice alive?!"**_

The grumbles stopped, and the court room was quiet again. Her eyes shown fiercely as she lowered her arms. "This massacre of free, innocent people will not continue! It must not continue! So help me!

Help me by allowing me this small boon: a test, to see if we can have a hope of stopping this prejudice from continuing on!" Hermione stepped quickly across the room, to one of the front reporters from the Daily Prophet. The Manila folder Malfoy had distributed sat in front of him on the desk. Hermione flipped it open and stabbed her finger down on the front page.

"This test I speak of has been well planned out, and will be executed in the same degree, Council. As Mr. Malfoy has so _**adequately**_ pointed out, I am thorough, and wouldn't waste your time or the wizarding communities time with meaningless fodder. I care too deeply, and have put too much at stake to fail in any way on this issue!"

Her voice had cooled, but held as much authority and volume as before. "I propose that Hogwarts School be reopened. Not to teach magic, but to be a school where the curse of prejudice against muggle borns can be ended.

I do not mean to just throw our groups together in the mere sake they'll get along. I wouldn't dream of throwing them into a room together to see what explosions might occur."

Hermione's hands moved with her words. "Our two groups, of magic and muggle, will be brought together with a purpose to fulfill. This purpose is one that is shared universally, by both of our worlds. In this purpose, the two groups _**CAN**_ bond, and see eye-to-eye.

This purpose is _**Music**_. It's an entity not associated with magic, but yet it's a passion second to Quiddich in our world. In the muggles world it is no different. What better way to end the prejudice between our worlds then to meet together in it? Each entity can bring something of their world and culture into the endeavor. In this way, the gap between our generations can be bridged."

Hermione's smile graced her face in sufficient coyness. "But I hardly want to turn this proposal into some _**little**_ operation, like a summer project that will bloom and die upon the first year. My plans for the future are too _**grandiose**_, council. I wouldn't bother you with them if they weren't!"

Her eyes kindled, and she leaned toward her audience as if sharing an intimate secret. "I aim to create the greatest music school on the continent! I do not merely want Hogwarts School to be recognized once again, I want it to be revered in all circles!

When I'm in New York I want to hear the Philharmonic Orchestra envy it; When I'm in Paris I want the art critiques to discuss it over coffee; In London, 12 blocks down, I want the Queen herself to listen to our greatest students while drinking tea. I want any musician or artist who graduates from my _**Hogwarts School of Magical Arts**_ to be worshiped, to be considered with the highest honor!"

Hermione shook her head in amazement. "Why should a wizard have to walk down the streets of London as a stranger to muggle society, when they can walk with their heads high and be recodnized as one of England's greatest musicians or artists of their time? And in retrospect, why should the muggles fear our respect for their talent in such a field? Music and the arts is a field any person on this green earth can understand."

Hermione cocked her head, studying the Manila folder again. She slipped a sheet out, and stepped back some from the jury.

"If you'd please open your Manila folders now, council, and on page 5 you should find a list of the sorts of teachers I would like to employ for this endeavor." She waited a moment as they ruffled around for it. Hermione raised a brow as she glanced over the sheet. Well, Malfoy really had done a good job. All the more better for her. Although she would have to find out who his contacts were, and either punish them gently or bribe them for herself.

Malfoy was turning red with anger as his entire case to began to fall to parts in front of him. And he couldn't do anything until her time was up.

"The teachers," She said smoothly, "Are only the best and highly qualified musicians of our age. Some are muggles, and some are wizards. Some of them you no doubt recognize."

There were excited whispers among several of the jury members as famous wizard and witch musicians were recognized. Hermione smiled in encouragement.

"No matter their blood or their society, Council, they are the best at what they do. They are _**famous **_individuals, who's names will carry their students to greatness with merely a hint of attention. I have met with all the people you see on this list and **everyone**," she emphasized, "Everyone of them has agreed to live and teach at _**Hogwarts School of the Magical Arts**_ if it is started. Their honor and very names are a guarantee if you agree with me today council."

Hermione handed the papers back to the reporter, who smiled quite encouragingly at her, she thought. Hermione stepped back to her desk, seeing her sand began to sift to wards the bottom of the hour glass. It was time to make a last stab at her plea.

"Council," she implored with feeling, "despite even that, I guarantee something even greater. I promise you that this is the only way to have even a hope of ensuring peace in our future. We've progressed as far as our magical spells and walls have allowed, and have outgrown our own boundaries. It is time to open some gates, and some doors into the rest of the world.

There is so much opportunity out there. Why should we deny ourselves this glory? Why don't we accept it today? I implore you, council, to make a difference in our world for our children's sakes. Give them a world without prejudice, and a world of music and wonder. Give them friends, even if those friends do not carry wands. The lives those friends do carry can prove to be much more beneficial and meaningful.

The curse will be ended if we do something now, council. I have proposed a solution. Your authority and your strength will decide on its wisdom."

As her words died, so did the stream of sand in the hourglass. Malfoy was braced for it, and as the last sand spiraled through the glass, he was springing to his feet. "_**INSANITY! You spout**_…"

But his words were drowned out momentarily by the applause from the audience and jury members. Hermione smiled and nodded her head in appreciation. Malfoy's face turned an uncomfortable shade of red, and he bullied his way around his seat to stand in front of his desk to claim the audience's attention again. He was slow in getting it.

"Ms. Granger speaks insanity and pointless arguments, Council! Do you not hear her? **She intends to let MUGGLES know of our world!** She is meaning to go against hundreds of years of secrecy! Do not let her words of grander and plans cloud your judgment or your ears. The point is, she is BREAKING THE LAW! The very act of planning such a thing is heresy and traitorous to our government! I called her on this today to ensure that you know of her plot!"

Hermione turned her full attention to Malfoy, indignant. "Plot? Oh, that's very honorable of _**you,**_ Mr. Malfoy! Yet if you had done further research beyond that of this flimsy stack of papers you've handed to everyone, you'd have found that I had already scheduled an appointment with this Council to discuss this very endeavor and my plans with them _**officially! **_I've taken no steps to secrecy. Unlike you, Mr. Malfoy, I have no wish to hide my business dealings _**under the table**_!"

Malfoy's teeth clenched together in anger. "To what are you hinting, Granger? If nothing, I suggest you keep you empty thoughts out of this meeting!"

Her eyes flashed as she took a step toward him. "Oh, dropping the formalities are we, Malfoy? And you haven't exactly been keeping your _**own **_imbecile thoughts outside of this meeting! You wish to discuss plots?" Her expression darkened. "I have _**plenty**_ of those to discuss with you!" As fists curled at his sides, Hermione began to think that the pistol would have come in handy right about then.

Harry decided they had gotten quite close enough to each others noses. He could see their hands curling around their wands as they spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger. Please, remember where you are."

The two shot one last murdering glance at each other, before retreating to their respectful positions.

Out of the two of them, Hermione Granger looked the least ruffled, Blaise thought, pleased. He was quite enjoying the show going on below. Granger hadn't disappointed him in the least.

Harry cleared his throat, and gestured to the jury members on both sides. "You have heard their cases. Mr. Malfoy has let it be known that Ms. Granger is planning an endeavor that is outside the confines of our law, and outside the norms of a hundred years of thinking. Ms. Granger has in her own stead made it clear that Mr. Malfoy is correct, yet she has not been planning outside the law as he accuses. She has proven that she has cooperated, and is willing to cooperate with this council on her plans."

Harry paused, seeming to make his mind up about something.

"These plans-," he finally continued, "-are a _**credit**_ to her mind and to her _**loyalty**_ to this wizarding council. And to our world."

Several heads turned in surprise to the Minister of Magic. Had he just voiced his support for the endeavor? Hermione looked at Harry in meaningful surprise herself.

"It is not Ms.Granger who should be judged here, Council," Harry continued, "It is the truth of her words. This council needs to recognize on its own that she is _**right**_." Harry met Malfoy's furious glare with a look of patient recondition. "The curse of prejudice is our master. We are its slaves, and the next generation will feel its heat if we do not take action. I do not want my own sons and daughters to bear its burden."

One hesitant council member raised her hand. "Excuse me, but I must admit I am somewhat wary of just blindly throwing this muggle-thing together. You mentioned a test first, to see if your plan will succeed, Ms. Granger. What test are you proposing?"

Hermione smiled at the woman. "I humbly propose to open the school for 5 years, with both muggles and wizards attending. Music and Art will be taught, and if I cannot impress this council with its progress, or if the reputation of the school is not first class, then, " Hermione nodded her head sadly, "I'm afraid I'll have to cut the wizarding world off from the school, and only make it a muggle institution."

The woman looked startled. "Hogwarts School? Why not cut it off from the muggles side and let it be a wizarding institution?"

"Because," Hermione explained, "I'm afraid its prestige would not be global. With just the wizarding world as its audience, I'm afraid the school would not grow. As I stated earlier, there are more opportunities to offer in the muggle world-musically and artistically-that need to be taken advantage of."

The woman seemed to think of this seriously. Several heads pulled together to whisper about this.

"You would turn Hogwarts School into a muggle institution?" One reporter questioned, his tone hard.

"No, I would have it be a school where magic can be used to enhance the art of music, and where our worlds can finally be bridged." She met the reporters stare firmly. "I would have it be the _**'celebrational toast'**_ of our wizarding world."

The entire occupancy of the room seemed to muse over the state of things, and to what they should do.

"Then the case now stands to vote on this," Harry stated to the room, "We are voting to allow Ms. Granger to fund and organize the effort, on behalf of this Council and Authority, to end the prejudice that has plagued our world and mind. This effort will be a test of 5 years, with its success to be determined by this council at the end of such.

If found failing, it is only fitting that all muggles involved will have their memories erased and returned to society. The law already allows this much room for error."

The Council members nodded their agreement to such terms.

"Also, if found failing, Ms. Granger will be obligated to return the property of Hogwarts to this Minsitry Council control. Despite plans to create a muggle institution, I'm afraid this Council and the Wizarding World cannot allow such history to be taken from us, Ms. Granger. If that is the case, you will be fully refunded for the endeavor.-"

Hermione frowned, but didn't object to the change.

"-Other infringements in this test may result in demotions or loss of powers in the wizarding community based on their magnitude. Do these terms agree with you, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione inclined her head. "More then fair, Minister," she agreed avidly.

Harry nodded and took up his courts hammer. "Then it is time for the vote to be placed."

The room quieted as individuals straightened and came to smart attention. All except Blaise Zabini, who continued to lounge unabashedly from on high. His raptor gaze was all that sharpened.

"Those in favor of _**vetoing**_ the plans set forth by Ms. Granger to enact a Music School for both wizards and muggles?"

Hermione looked around the room, and watched as a good number of hands went up, some slowly; others rather quickly. She tried to push down the feeling of dread in her throat, even as Malfoy's grin became wider.

The secretary counted the votes and wrote it swiftly on his parchment in black ink, and showed it to Harry. Harry read it, and nodded.

"Now, those in favor of _**allowing**_ Ms. Granger the allotted time of 5 years to enact a music School for both wizards and muggles?"

Hermione's breath stopped completely. She turned her head slowly, and was relieved when the hands began to go up. And up…

Blaise Zabini seemed to stretch his shoulders, before he raised his right hand high. Several of the female reporters around him noticed, and nudged each other. Many of their hands went up. Some had already voted. As they did, the secretary at his Harry's side scowled and crossed out the original number, changing it.

Hermione was slightly shocked at _**his**_ support. They hadn't exactly parted in best of terms, her and Blaise Zabini, and he was a _**Slytherin**_, a _**pureblood**_…one of _**Malfoy's**_ associates.

Malfoy didn't look too happy either. In fact, he was sputtering. Blaise Zabini merely shrugged, grinning at his friend as if it was a pardonable sin.

Then, Harry's hand went up. Another shock for the room and the reporters! The Minister himself was taking a deliberate side, something he tried generally not to do.

Several more authority and politically driven individuals saw it in their best interests to now raise their hands.

There were many hands, she saw. But it was close. The room waited anxiously as the secretary counted, and wrote the final number. He slid the parchment across to the Minister of Magic. Harry looked down at it, and cleared his throat.

"Those in favor of vetoing: _**27**_." Harry looked up, meeting Hermione's anxious eyes. A small smile graced his features. "Those in favor of approval for _**Hogwarts School of Magical Arts**_: 35."

Hermione's entire body seemed to flow with relief. For a second she didn't even hear the applause that the verdict was greeted with, nor did she hear the sound of Harry's hammer ending the entire ordeal. All she could think for several moments, was "Thank God, its over. It's going to happen!"

Malfoy didn't even pause in his hurried escape from the room. Hermione watched him rush angrily from the room, nearly knocking the poor secretary over at the door. She decided that, if she didn't want to risk getting hexed on her way out by him, she might want to take the back worker's entrance today. Besides, a calming taxi ride was just what she needed to relax before she started getting her plans to working.

It took her several minutes to even get out of the court room, as just about every reporter imaginable was there to stop her with questions on her victory. Not to mention, she did go out of her way to personally thank certain members for voting for her.

Somewhere in the middle of the throng, she found herself standing next to Harry, the Minister of Magic, for the Daily Prophet. As they snapped away what would undoubtedly be the front headline photograph, Harry bent to whisper in her ear. "Well done, 'Mione. Seems you've triumphed again."

She smiled and whispered back, "Not without your help, I'm afraid. What ever happened to your words that I would have to 'convince them on my own?' Something to do with 'staying out of politics,' wasn't it?"

"Screw politics," he said swiftly, "You were floundering for once. Now, how often do I get to bail you out of trouble? Besides…" He smiled conspiratorially. "Will's been starting to experiment with that dusty old piano Sirius's had in the back parlor. I have my own son's musical future to worry about."

Hermione grinned brilliantly and shook his hand one last time for the reporters. "I'll send you a Student's Package for the School personally."

Going through the doors, they parted; Harry to the left, and Hermione to the right. Down the hall a ways she looked back, relieved to see the reporters had followed him. No doubt they wanted to question him specifically about his personal interest in the School.

Slowing to a more leisurely pace, Hermione's eyes fell on a certain someone who was standing towards the exit doors. A rather tall, and somehow not so seemingly easy looking wizard. Her brain did a keen back flip before righting itself again as Blaise Zabini grinned at her. "So, Ms. Granger, you charmed the wolves once again. Congratulations."

She frowned. "Again? I do not know what you mean, Mr. Zabini."

He tilted his head. "Once at Auction, and nearly two weeks later again at Court. I think you mean to turn the world upside down, Granger."

She smiled slightly. "That's no secret. And what about you?" She slipped her hands out of her robes, letting them hand at her sides. "It looks to me like I have a blood traitor standing in my midst."

He smiled. "If you're referring to my little vote of confidence in there, I assure you it was for purely selfish reasons."

She frowned again, slightly concerned. "Then I hope you're prepared to weather out the glares of your constituents. Was it wise to seemingly ally yourself with me, Zabini? I didn't think I'd made you one, considering how I insulted you at the auction."

He made a sound of incredulous amusement. "You hardly insulted me with _**that**_, Granger. Actually, I must confess your anger towards our little insulting group…impressed me."

She smiled wryly. "Then I'll no doubt be impressing you more in the future. Now if you'll excuse me…" She stepped around him, but he was already holding the door open for her.

"Oh no, I shall not be excusing you yet." He said. "Heading anywhere in particular?"

He followed her out onto the street. Hermione stopped on the side walk, narrowly avoiding some tourist group that passed by. "Ah…I was going to find a taxi."

He grinned in amusement at her. "My, you do like embracing muggle life! Riding in a taxi…I shouldn't allow it." He placed a strong hand on her shoulder and began to steer her through the crowds.

Her brows furrowed. "And just why shouldn't you allow it?"

"Because after that incredibly entertaining but pointless waste of human life span of a trial, I'm starving and in need of a good pint, so Granger, you'll have to do for company. I'm keenly interested in being impressed again."

She stopped purposefully, resisting the pressure of his hand when he applied it.

He sighed, and faced her fully again. "You must not be the type of witch who is swept away easily, are you?"

He bit her lip as if thinking about it, then shook her head. "No. Now, I need to leave…"

She lifted his hand of her shoulder and tried to push it away. Imagine her frustration when he then intertwined them in his long tapered fingers. And this was a grip she couldn't get out of.

"Then it's a pity for you I am also not so easily deterred." He said it quietly, in a way that was so intimate it put Hermione's concentration on full. He ran his thumb over her knuckle, and then broke her gaze to glance across the street. "Ah, here you go." He looked back at her, smiling. "Never let it be said I keep a beautiful woman waiting."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, when a blue taxi squealed to a halt in front of them. Blaise Zabini once again opened the door for her. He helped her into the taxi, not once letting go of her hand. Once she was inside and seated, he did. She slowly let it fall into her lap, feeling odd to have it back in her possession.

She cleared her throat, arranging her robes around her knees. "Look, thank you Zabini, for your vote of confidence. Even if it was for some secret, selfish reasons." She was beginning to wonder just what those reasons might be.

He grinned in that Italian suave way of his. "About those selfish reasons…" He drawled, "I'll be stopping by at some point in the future to discuss those with you. Until then…"

He studied her cool expression, drinking in the planes of her face and the curve of her hair against her neck. Until then…

"I'm going to start calling you Hermione from now on," he announced to her. "That should start something new for you and me."

With that, he shut the door in her startled face. After mumbling some address to the driver, she stared out the slightly dirtied window at the wizard who was seemingly meddling in her life. She wasn't sure, but had he been deliberately waiting for her at the workers exit? And just why was he at the Court that day? As far as she knew, Blaise Zabini had his own circles, and none of them involved politics.

Seeing the taxi start pulling away, he Disaparated. Hermione thought it troublesome that she **was** wondering just where he had gone. And the thought of it mattered too much for several blocks before she could even begin to think about anything else.

* * *

bnthridiot: Well, thats it for now. Next chapter will be the future meeting between Mr. Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger. Somehow paint will be involved...and Malfoy's got secrets to go along with that cesspit of plots he has. I see Love and secrets in the future... 


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